Facing the Enemy
by Cornorama
Summary: Story begins with the sailboat accident in SCARLETT then becomes a work that has little to do with the aforementioned novel. Have rewritten chapters 1,2,3,4
1. Facing the Present

**_As always, for Dani..._**

In the days following their disaster during the storm; Rhett remained at Scarlett's bedside; just waiting. She was so pale that there was little difference between her complexion and the unbleached, cotton sheets she slept on. He wanted her to open her eyes and say something, anything; even if she laid full blame at his feet for their near drowning.

In addition to the bruises and abrasions on her legs from coming ashore, Scarlett also had a terrible cough and a fever that seemingly rose and fell continually. It hurt him in an almost physical way to watch her body arch up in her bed as coughing fits wracked her slim frame. He held her hand tightly as though he could somehow absorb her pain. He knew that he couldn't, but if she drew any measure of comfort from her hand in his, then he'd continue to do so until she awoke and told him differently.

Initially, during the first night as she'd tossed and turned and called for her mother, he'd thought she might die and so he prayed as he had never prayed before. His mother and sister urged him to come home and rest, someone could send for him if she awoke. How could he rest if he wasn't by her side, all he'd do was pace and worry about her? So Rhett sat by her bedside in the hospital ward of the fort, simply waiting for her to wake up from the drug induced state of unconsciousness that the doctors had assured him was necessary.

For three days, he watched over her and prayed. Then, on the third day of her convalescence, the doctors overseeing Scarlett's recovery discontinued giving her laudanum and aproic. For several hours, she tossed and turned, struggling against the narcotics in her system, but finally her pale green eyes opened. She looked at him and in her eyes; he could see that she remembered every word he'd said to her in the cabin where they had sought shelter and none of the words of passion that had poured from his lips as he'd made love to her in the shallow shelter of the sandy cove.

To give credit where credit was due, she never complained. In actuality, she barely spoke to him once she regained consciousness. He tried to tell her that she would be all right, that as soon as she had a clean bill of health, he would take her home. The word home, he belatedly realized, was objective since she was supposed to leave his mother's house by the second week in April, but he just wanted to see that spark come back into her eyes.

When she was happy or in the midst of a scheme, Scarlett's eyes glowed like emeralds in a shop window. Now they were flat and held a disturbing note of wait and see.

On the third evening, once Scarlett slipped into a drugless slumber, Doctor Mossy the doctor who'd been attending Scarlett asked to have a moment alone with Rhett before he turned in for the evening. Rhett acquiesced after making sure a nurse would watch Scarlett.

Directed by a nurse, he made his way outside to join Doctor Mossy on the wide stone steps leading into the hospital.

"Cigarillo?" Doctor Mossy inquired pleasantly, extending a battered leather case.

Rhett shook his head.

"Obviously, I didn't just ask you out here for a smoke. Mr. Butler, I'd like to be frank with you about your wife's condition." Doctor Mossy took a long, full drag on his cigarillo before continuing. "Her fever, while bothersome, will eventually run its course in about a week, possibly two

"There's more though, isn't there?"

"It's her lack of mobility that concerns me. While you suffered few, if any, adverse affects from the time you spent in the ocean, Mrs. Butler was not so lucky. She is of a much smaller stature than you so the effects of the water were particularly detrimental to her health. While the temperature of the ocean wasn't cold enough to promote a full case of hypothermia, Mrs. Butler had an abnormally low body temperature for an extended period of time." Doctor Mossy took one last drag of his cigarillo before disposing of the end of it into the shrubbery framing the steps.

Rhett took advantage of the pause in the doctor's explanation to ask, "But she's going to be alright? She's awake now and she hasn't said…"

"Mr. Butler please, let me finish, when the human body becomes extraordinarily cold, all the systems begin to slow down, including the circulatory system. In Mrs. Butler's case, this has led to a lose of mobility."

The doctor's words penetrated his brain at last. Horror dawned on his face. "My God, is Scarlett…"

Doctor Mossy, anticipating the remainder of Rhett's question quickly sought to put his mind at ease. "Paralyzed? No, at least, not permanently. At present, she's lost a great deal of sensitivity in her feet, which will make it difficult for her to stand unaided for an extended period of time. Eventually she will regain most, if not all, the feeling in her legs and feet. Mrs. Butler will most likely experience some stiffness and muscle cramps as the circulation returns and she regains mobility."

"How long till Scarlet makes a full recovery?"

"At this time Mr. Butler, I could not hazard a guess. I would not want to give you an incorrect timeline. Someday perhaps the medical community will have a wealth of information at it's disposal when it comes to various forms of paralysis, but for now, I can only say that the more rest and care she receives, the sooner she'll recover."

Finally, four days after the boat capsized, the doctor at the fort considered her condition stable enough to allow Rhett to remove her to his mother's home. Her cold hadn't improved and so he'd brought the furs he'd denied her throughout the season. Doctor Mossy had insisted on sending a nurse to accompany the Butler's over on the ferry pointing out that she could then bring back the wheelchair that Scarlett reluctantly allowed herself to be placed in. A shadow of the strong, resilient Scarlett Rhett had always known appeared at the sight of the wheel chair…

"I will not sit in that contraption," Scarlett told Doctor Mossy, "my husband will help me onto the ferry and then…"

"Mrs. Butler, do you wish to get better?" Doctor Mossy asked; ignoring the hostile glare Scarlett was regarding him with.

"Of course."

"Then do as I tell you, it's just until you reach the battery. After that, Mr. Butler can carry you or, if you feel up to it, you could attempt to walk."

Doctor Mossy caught Rhett's attention over Scarlett's head with a pointed look. Rhett understood immediately. He was only adding the comment about walking to mollify Scarlett; it would be a long time before she felt strong enough to walk on her own

Reluctantly, Scarlett allowed Rhett to lift her from the chair she'd been sitting in. As he lowered her into the wheelchair, she frowned slightly, wrinkling her upper brow.

Rhett leaned forward to whisper in her ear, "When I was but a lad, my mammy told me to be careful making faces, they might stick that way." His quip was rewarded with the barest ghost of a smile. It was faint, but it was a smile.

"Mammy told me the same thing. Once, I stuck my tongue out in front of my mother's vanity mirror for nearly three quarters of an hour to see if it would."

"From the lovely visage before me, I see that it didn't."

Scarlett smiled again. "Mammy was bound to be wrong at least once in her life."

"As inconceivable as that sounds," replied Rhett.

Nodding, she continued to settle herself in the wheelchair.

By the time they were on the ferry, her earlier smiles had faded away.

She was so still and quiet on the ride over that Rhett found himself leaning over to ask her if she was comfortable if for no other reason than to instigate a brief conversation.

"I hate sitting in this chair," she said, never taking her eyes off the battery as the ferry made its final approach.

"I'm sure, but it's only a precaution. When we reach the mainland you'll never see it again," he said amicably.

She didn't answer and he tried not to worry, after all, soon she'd be gone from his life forever. It wasn't likely that she'd be leaving on the agreed upon date, but once she'd recovered, then she would leave him. She'd no longer be his to worry about. He smiled ruefully, how could he not worry about her; he'd done it for so long now that it was second nature.

Wild horses would never drag it out of him but after he'd left her in the house in Atlanta, he didn't take the first train to Charleston. He sat through the boarding on to that train and had to buy a second ticket. Scarlett was in his blood and he felt divided on whether leaving her was the thing to do. She told him the words he'd waited so long to hear and then he'd told her those words no longer mattered. Certainly that was a lie, he'd carry those words tattooed on his heart forever

After giving the nurse a tip so generous that she told him not once, but three times to send for her if his wife needed a nurse, he asked Scarlett if she felt well enough to walk to the carriage he'd retained the services of. He asked more as a courtesy than an expectation assuming she'd decline and he would carry her, but Scarlett surprised him once again.

She tried to stand but her knees buckled. If it hadn't been for his hand on the small of her back, she would have collapsed back into the wheelchair.

Flushing a dull brick red, Scarlett wouldn't look up to meet his quizzing gaze.

"You can't stand, can you?" His voice was gentle, but she flinched as if he'd screamed.

"I can stand," she replied, her voice catching, not meeting his eyes.

He didn't let her attempt to stand again; he simply swung her up into his arms and carried her to the carriage. They rode in silence for the ten minutes it took to reach the house and he was once again left to try and ignore his treacherous heart as it entreated him to tell Scarlett they could try again.

"e's hea Cap'n Butler," said driver.

"Ready?" Rhett asked pleasantly.

"Yes," she replied, stiffly.

He thought that she looked a little better but when he lifted her from the carriage, she cried out hoarsely. Her face turned white with pain and her jaw clenched, causing the skin to draw taunt across her face.

"Scarlett," the alarm he felt came through in his voice, "what is it, did I hurt you?"

"Please, don't worry about me, I just need to rest for a while," she told him, her voice still hoarse from the pain that just ripped through her.

He only replied with a terse "Fine." Not willing to further agitate her by arguing, he readjusted her in his arms, carrying her upstairs to her bedroom. He placed her carefully on the bench in front of the vanity thinking she'd be fine. He intended to only leave her there for a moment while he turned down the bedclothes; instead, she swayed forward and let out a small, choked gasp.

The look of agony on her face was almost enough to wring from his lips the words that he'd spoken to her as they made love on the beach. He wanted to tell her how grateful he was that she survived. He wanted to confess that the love he felt for her for so many years wasn't truly dead, how indeed having come so close to losing her, he'd realized how empty life would become without her.

In lieu of the words that he wanted to say, but didn't dare, he wrapped his arms around her waist to steady her. "I'm going to send for Doctor Bastin, he's our family physician. I want him to examine you."

"The doctor at the Fort said I was just suffering from exhaustion and exposure. On top of that, I have a cold. But I'll keep our deal, don't you fret. I'll leave Charleston in a few weeks, just as we agreed."

He was momentarily taken aback. Her leaving Charleston was the very last thing on his mind. "Don't be ridiculous," he snapped, "how could you think you'd be able to travel in the condition you're in?"

She put her hand against his chest to steady herself, she was becoming so agitated that she was unaware she was even touching him. "I have Pansy and by the end of the week I expect I'll be just fine. Maybe I'll leave then, no use prolonging the inevitable," she added with false bravado.

"You heard what Doctor Mossy said, you'll recover when you recover," he snapped, "I won't have you exacerbating your condition. You won't be happy till you're flat on your back, burning with fever coughing your pretty little head off. You'll stay here until you are well enough to travel without endangering your health."

Without giving her a chance to reply, he lifted her up and gently laid her on the bed. For once, she didn't continue to argue, she simply sighed, leaning back into the pillows.

Reaching down he removed her thin kid slippers. To his amusement, he noticed that one of the insteps of the slippers had at one point been badly scuffed. Someone, at Scarlett's insistence most likely, had rubbed Indian ink into the scuff to hide it.

Even with over a hundred pairs of slippers, shoes, boots and other assorted pieces of footwear in her closet; Scarlett couldn't bear to get rid of shoes just because they were a little scuffed. Actually, her shoes could be falling to pieces and though she might stop wearing them, they would end up carefully stashed away in the back of her closet in their house in Atlanta.

Once, years ago, when Scarlett was carrying Bonnie, she'd asked him to find her a pair of bedroom slippers. He could almost see in his mind how she was by then. Her stomach was so large that she could no longer bend forward with any degree of ease. She must have been in the last few weeks of her pregnancy. She was so miserable by that time he didn't tease her about being too lazy to do it herself. He just complied without so much as a word.

It had been ages since he'd seen the inside of her dressing room and it's interior closet. The previous year when he'd been consulting with the crew building the house the master builder had suggested the closet as one of the latest innovations in house building and Rhett, thinking Scarlett would enjoy having one, readily agreed. Looking at the mess inside, he wasn't so sure he made the right decision. The closet was in an overall state of textile based chaos.

"She hasn't thrown out a single thing since we've been married," he muttered to himself, as he surveyed the utter mess in the closet. Finally, he located a pair of satin bedroom slippers that he vaguely recalled having bought for her in New Orleans. He returned to the bedroom to find her reclining on the divan couch in their bedroom in an attempt to make her self more comfortable.

"Here, allow me." He bent forward and cupped her dainty foot in his large, slightly calloused hand. Sliding on each slipper, he carefully avoided the urge to run his hand up her leg toward her inner thigh. The gesture would not be welcome and he didn't feel like being rebuffed yet again.

"Thank you," she murmured softly, before closing her eyes.

"I believe tomorrow I'll ask Mammy to enlist the help of some of the maids. Your closet and dressing room are in dire need of being sorted out. Anything that's worn out or you are no longer fond of, Miss Melanie can distribute to the deserving poor."

Her eyes snapped open; her eyes burning with barely concealed anger. "No, don't you dare." Her cheeks colored with anger.

"Surely you aren't so mercenary as to deny those in need your castoffs," he asked sarcastically.

She ignored his rebuke. "I don't have anything that you can distribute to anyone."

Rhett sat down in the wingback leather chair across from her and lit a cigar. "Scarlett, be something like reasonable. You have pairs of dancing slippers with holes worn clean through the soles. Those aren't fit for the feet of a Butler. They aren't fit for anything but the rubbish heap."

Scarlett struggled to sit up. Her chest was heaving with what Rhett thought was anger but upon closer inspection, he knew that something was wrong. Suddenly, without a word, she burst into tears.

He ground out his cigar in an ash dish and sat next to her on the divan. Wrapping her in his arms, he smiled into her hair. She was pregnant and obviously, her emotions were running away with her. That was the only explanation he could think of for her tears. "Darling, what is it?" Receiving no answer, he made another attempt to draw her out. "I swear whatever you dispose of, I'll buy you two to make up for its loss."

She draped her arms around his neck. "It isn't that, really," she said sniffing, "I just find it impossible to throw away anything that looks like it has the least bit of wear left in it. During the war, but especially after, I would have been delighted to have a pair of slippers that only had the heels worn out. The slippers that I wore when I came to see you in jail were lined with carpet from my mother's office." The soft, ladylike sniffs became hiccups, then shudders, then finally silence as she snuggled in his arms.

"Scarlett, look at me," Rhett told her, his voice oddly gentle. She did reluctantly, her eyes still slightly wet with tears. "Even if I have to rob banks or become a highway man, I will always see that you're taken care of. You know that, don't you?"

She nodded and then, in a rare display of affection, she strained forward and kissed him. It had been so long since they'd exchanged more than a distracted good night kiss that he groaned gently against her mouth and held her even tighter as she pulled him closer. Lifting her up in his arms and carried her to their bed where they…

"Thank you," she murmured, extending her toes languidly.

She startled him out of his reflections, "You're welcome."

The drugs that she'd been given just before they'd left Fort McHenry must have finally begun to take effect. "I don't feel very well," she said, her words slurring slightly.

Rhett pulled a chair along the side of the bed; despite his initial resolve to keep his distance during her recovery, he couldn't leave her when she was suffering. "It's little wonder you don't feel well, after all I promised you a day of sailing and instead you were half frozen and very nearly drowned."

Scarlett struggled against the drugged sleep she was helplessly slipping into. "Not your fault, it was a storm, couldn't be helped.

He felt ridiculous arguing with a heavy sedated woman but he felt complied to take responsibility for their near miss. "I was the captain on dozens of voyages during the blockades. I've sailed on the Atlantic longer than you've drawn breath. I missed all the signs of a coming squall because I was too busy…"

The sound of her even breathing, slow and steady, silenced his outpouring of guilt. She was in a sleep so deep it was closer to a state of unconsciousness than it was slumber.

What had he been too busy doing? He had been studying Scarlett, trying to complete a storehouse of memories, enough to last him the rest of his life. He watched the sheer excitement she felt at the wonders of sailing light up her face till it appeared to glow from within.

He'd planned on leaving the day after tomorrow on the first train to New York to see some former business partners. As soon as he knew she was packing to depart for Atlanta, he had planned on leaving before he became seduced by her charms all over again. Now that she was back in his mother's home it was clear to him that she simply was not well enough for him to leave her. Suppose she should need him and he were far away, suppose she was ill and called for him? How could he stand that guilt, he couldn't.

His mother whispered from the doorway. "Rhett?"

He tucked the loose covers around Scarlett and with one last glance; he left to join his mother in the hall.

"Your sister and I went to Fort McHenry to help bring Scarlett home, but the charge nurse said you'd left nearly an hour before we arrived." She looked at his tired face and reached up to lay her hand on his cheek. "Is something the matter darling?"

"She's just so weak and I don't know, perhaps a bit helpless. I'm not use to seeing her at a disadvantage."

"She'll be fine in no time. I've had Carlen make you up a tray; it's in the library. Why don't you come downstairs and eat. Don't forget, you were hurt as well."

"Mother, Scarlett's in pain," he admitted, "I know that she is, but she won't tell me anything. She's barely spoken a word to me in the last few days."

"Do you think she's angry with you about the accident?" Eleanor asked.

"No, I think she's in a great deal of pain but she's determined to honor the bargain we made about her leaving once the season ended." He was so lost in his thoughts about Scarlett's condition that the words were past his lips before he could stop himself.

"Bargain? What do you mean?"

"Nothing, forgive me for rambling. I'm tired and honestly, I'm not thinking very clearly."

His mother took his arm. "Come downstairs and eat, then you can lie down. I don't suppose Scarlett will be awake any time soon and if you wish, I'll ask Rosemary to sit with her."

"That sounds fine, " he leaned down and kissed his mother's cheek.

Together mother and son descended the stairs each lost in their own thoughts regarding the sleeping woman they were both so worried about.

R.

D 2

T 18

Y 75


	2. Best Foot Forward and Facing facts

Rosemary sat down in the chair her brother recently vacated. She wasn't pleased at being assigned Scarlett watching duty but, for her brother's sake, she could at least tolerate Scarlett until she was well enough to leave and be gone from their lives for good.

Since she was trapped in sentry duty for the time being, Rosemary studied her soon to be former sister in law. Scarlett was beautiful; there really was no denying that. She was certainly one of the most beautiful women Rosemary ever saw and logically, she shouldn't have been. Her chin was too hard and slightly pointed, giving her a resemblance to a vixen. Her cheekbones were high and really didn't work with her chin. Her eyebrows were obviously plucked; otherwise, they would have been slightly heavier than the current mode of what was considered attractive. But those were Scarlett's very few flaws.

Rosemary, against her will, could also pick out the characteristics that made Scarlett such a breath-taking woman. The peace granted to her by sleep smoothed away the few minute lines that age painted on Scarlett's face. It would have been easy to mistake Scarlett for a young woman closer to her 20th birthday than her 30th. Her hair was a deep black with hidden brown highlights that caught the candlelight and lured men in like moths to a flame. Her lips were perfectly shaped and at that, she sniffed disdainfully. Scarlett hardly needed the lip rouge that Rosemary just knew she used

Then there were those eyes. Right now, they were closed, so Rosemary could not study them in any great detail. Still, after seeing them, how could her brother or any man resist them once they had met his? They were so green without that hint of hazel that kept so many from having truly green eyes.

She hated her, but she would have been lying if she tried to dismiss Scarlett as not being a very attractive woman. What rankled her to the bone was the knowledge that looks were only about one-third of what her brother found so entrancing about Scarlett. There was clearly something else to his attraction for this woman. If only she knew what it was.

"Rosemary?" Scarlett whispered, her voice hesitant with confusion.

Despite her dislike of Scarlett, she had still just been through a terrible ordeal and for now, Rosemary would be as polite as she could manage. "Yes, how are you feeling?"

"Hot, is it…" she began to cough, her body racked by each spasm.

"Scarlett, here, drink this." Rosemary placed the tumbler of water from the nightstand against Scarlett's lips but she shook her head frantically and Rosemary moved it away.

It took nearly several minutes for the wracking coughs to subside and by then, her dislike of Scarlett was temporally forgotten. "Any better?"

Not trusting her raw throat and feeling as though she was without the ability to utter a word, Scarlett nodded instead.

"Would you like that glass of water now?"

Scarlett nodded again. She took the glass and sipped slowly, wincing at the burning feeling in her throat. She was hot and uncomfortable in her heavy skirts. Her head was still swimming from the numerous drugs she'd been given during the last few days and she was having a great deal of difficulty articulating what is was that she wanted "Could you ask Pansy to come and undress me?"

Rosemary shrugged "Why bother her, I'll help you."

The thought of prolonged physical contact with Rhett's sister made her even more nauseated than she already felt, but she steeled her resolve and nodded, not trusting herself to speak least she tell Rosemary to stop hovering.

Rosemary took Scarlett's hand and attempted to help her from the bed. She managed to roll her legs out of the bed, but try as she might; it was nearly impossible for her to stand on her own. Rosemary looked at her, puzzled by the wave of agony that passed across Scarlett's features.

"Scarlett?"

She opened her mouth to say something but the words wouldn't come. She could barely feel her legs. She knew they were there and she could just feel the cold floorboards beneath her feet, but the ability to stand and support her self seemed to have permanently abandoned her. She knew that Doctor Mossy said it would take time, but she expected that with a little rest she would be on her feet in no time. Instead, she was a burden, someone to be pitied instead of envied. She began to cry and for that, she reviled herself even further.

Startled by her tears, Rosemary helped Scarlett back onto the bed. "I'm going to ask Rhett to come up here, will you be alright by yourself for a moment?"

Scarlett protested through the tears that coursed down her pale face, "It's just because I haven't been up and about in a few days. It will pass, I'm sure. If you run and get Rhett he'll just be worried about nothing, just leave well enough alone." Scarlett's voice took on a pleading tone. "Please Rosemary, don't."

Rosemary bit her bottom lip. For a moment as she wondered what to do; she was torn between feeling sorry for Scarlett who seemed sincere in not wanting to worry Rhett and anger at Scarlett for having one more excuse to keep Rhett tethered to her. Common sense won out, if she was getting worse and not better, the sooner Rhett knew, the better. "Don't be ridiculous, you can't stand and your cold sounds as though it's only getting worse, not better. I'll get Rhett and then he can decide whether or not to send for a Doctor."

She bustled out of the room without allowing Scarlett another word. "Meddling busybody," muttered Scarlett, rearranging herself against the pillows.

Rhett was just placing his fork next to his plate when Rosemary appeared at the door to the library.

"Rhett, I think that perhaps you should come upstairs," she said gently.

Rhett felt his heart pound faster "Is Scarlett alright?"

Rosemary shook her head slightly as she spoke "Not really, her color's bad and she just had another coughing fit."

"A bad one?" Rhett asked hoping his sister would tell him differently.

"Yes, bad enough that I felt panicked, she couldn't catch a breath and then when I tried to help her out of her clothes, she nearly fainted. Then," Rosemary hesitated, she had fully intended to tell her brother 'and then she cried', but in some silly way, she felt as though she would be betraying a confidence. She knew that Scarlett wanted Rhett back desperately but she had come to understand that Scarlett O'Hara Butler would never resort to tears to win back Rhett. She'd do it through sheer force of will and scheming, not crocodile tears.

"And then what?"

"She just fell back onto the bed. She looks awful. Rhett, I think you should have someone a little more qualified than an army sawbones take a look at her."

Rhett rose from the table, gesturing for Rosemary to lead the way back upstairs. The words of the doctor who first examined Scarlett came to him, echoing through his brain like an accusation, 'the circulation has all but shut down in her legs, she'll be lucky if she doesn't lose the use of them.' This was entirely his fault, first he'd almost cost Scarlett her life by ignoring the signs of an oncoming squall and now she might be crippled because of his negligence.

Rhett returned to the chair he'd been sitting in earlier. He watched Scarlett's chest rise and fall, her breathing was labored and occasionally it hitched slightly before she would cough lightly in her sleep. "Go on Rosemary, I'll sit with her. I don't want her to wake up alone."

"Do you want me to send for Doctor Cross?"

Rhett looked up at his sister, disgust clear on his face. "Good God no, Doctor Bastin will do. Thank you Rosemary."

Rosemary watched her brother turn his attention back to Scarlett. He was becoming so focused on Scarlett. After everything he'd told her about his relationship with that woman, the thought of him being caught up once more left a sour taste in Rosemary's throat.

She turned to ask him if he wanted their mother to come back but what she saw took the words from her, leaving her alternately hot and cold with a dull, grinding rage. Rhett's hands were clenched around her small boned hand as though in prayer; his forehead resting atop their clasped hands.

Rhett was rapidly losing his battle to escape Scarlett and her wiles. Taking stock of the present situation, Rosemary came to a decision. Doctor Bastin was in his late sixties and extremely set in his ways, which according to him, were the right ways. If Scarlett did have any sort of temporary paralysis, it would be much wiser to have Doctor Cross see her.

Doctor Cross, on the other hand, was only in his early thirties and not nearly so pigheaded as Doctor Bastin. He had attended medical school in Europe and went to lectures up North all the time. Doctor Cross wouldn't simply agree with what the Yankee doctor had told Rhett, no, he would conduct a through examination and then they would know if Scarlett's condition was really as serious as the doctor at the fort had made it out to be.

'Of course,' Rosemary conceded reluctantly, 'Rhett won't like Doctor Cross even setting foot in the house, let alone treating Scarlett, but that can't be helped.'

It had to be Doctor Cross because he wasn't one to be charmed by a pretty face, especially if that face belonged to anyone with the last name of Butler.

The sooner she got Doctor Cross, the sooner he could proclaim Scarlett well and send her packing. Rosemary grabbed her caplet from the coat rack by the front door. The sooner Scarlett was given a clean bill of health, the better.

----------------------- --------------------------------

He was alone with her once more and that suited him just fine. It wasn't that he didn't love his sister; nothing could be further from the truth. Unfortunately, his sister was far too observant for her own good and right now, Rhett didn't want an audience. Scarlett stirred slightly and Rhett stoked her palm absently with his thumb. He had told her that their love making on the beach had been nothing more than a celebration of not drowning. He tried to tell her that they'd just used one another and that it meant nothing, but that wasn't true. The walls that he'd built around his heart to keep it closed off from Scarlett had developed some hairline cracks.

She moved again and a few seconds later her eyes opened.

Her eyelids felt so heavy that it was a struggle just to keep her eyes open. "Rhett, Rosemary made you come up? I told her not to bother you."

"Rosemary didn't make me come up, I was concerned about you so I wanted to see how you were but you've been sleeping. Did I wake you?"

"No, my legs hurt and I..." She colored. The two hectic blotches of color gave her a heated appearance. She needed help undressing but the memory of his rough fumbling under the waterlogged sweater as he'd cut the laces on her corset came back to her, disconcerting her.

"Scarlett?" Rhett asked, his voice laced with concern, "What is it?'

"Would you ask Pansy to come up here and help me undress, my bodice and skirts aren't very comfortable to sleep in."

"I'm sorry, I should have considered that when I brought you up here earlier."

"It's fine, I just need Pansy to help undress me."

Rhett stood and yanked the bell pull with more force than was strictly necessary. He was conflicted about his feelings for Scarlett and it annoyed him to feel so out of control of his emotions.

Moments later there was a rap at the door. Rhett opened the door to find Carlen, his mothers cook, standing outside the door.

"You ne' sump'in Cap'n Bu'ler?"

" Miss Scarlett's maid, Pansy, would you send her up please."

"I's sorry Cap'n Bu'ler, she goada tel'gram. Her pa'py died n'd her momma's fra'tic fo' her. Must'a if she wuz willin' ta spen' money li' dat. Sump'ing I kin help wit Cap'n Bu'ler?"

"No, I'll see to it myself. Carlen, do you know of any of your nieces that might be looking for a position as a ladies maid?"

"I surely do. I'll as' ta'nite an' h've one of 'em he'e in da mo'nin'."

"Thank you Carlen, that's all." Closing the door, Rhett returned to Scarlett's bedside. "I'm afraid you'll have to make due with me, Pansy was called away by a family emergency."

"I could have been drowned, what on earth could that girl be thinking, running off like this?" Scarlett groused.

"Her father died," Rhett replied quietly.

Scarlett blushed again, much to her annoyance. "Oh," was all she could bring herself to say.

"If you'll undo your bodice, I'll help you take it off."

Left with no other alternative other than staying in her clothes for an unknown period of time, Scarlett unbuttoned the nearly two dozen tiny jet buttons running single file down her bodice front. She tried to struggle out of the now unbuttoned garment but it was no use, she would simply have to accept Rhett helping her undress.

Trying to remain unmoved by the thought of laying his hands on her and baring her flesh was proving to be more of a challenge than Rhett had originally thought. He peeled off the bodice only to discover, to his reluctant fascination, Scarlett wasn't wearing a corset. The idea that she'd been in his arms earlier without a corset entranced him.

Underneath her dress, she'd only been wearing her combination and some petticoats to give shape to her skirts. Her waist was still tiny even after giving birth three times and her breasts were so high and firm that it would have never occurred to him that she was without the shaping of a corset.

His hand still rested on her shoulder, his fingers curving lightly to mold to the contours of her smooth, bare shoulder.

His touch was driving her wild; she could no longer differentiate between the heat generated by her fever and the warmth spreading though her due to Rhett's touch. How could she go without ever seeing him again? Could she spend a lifetime never touching him? What would it be like to never be touched by him again now that she knew how badly she wanted him?

He wanted her to leave, but she could also tell that he wasn't as sure as he'd once been. Maybe they still had a chance. It would require a great deal of effort on her part. If she could only convince him that she was now the one determined to leave, that alone might bring him to heel. After all, when had Rhett wanted her the most but when she didn't want him.

"Rhett," she said softly.

He looked at her and cleared his slightly constricted throat. "I'll help you unhook your skirts, do you think you can stand?"

Her head was swimming and her legs were sore, but the only thing that could keep Katie Scarlett O'Hara Butler from formulating a scheme was death. "I think I'd rather wait for Rosemary," she replied innocently.

He tried to suppress the smile that came to his lips, but failed slightly. "I've seen you in less than your chemise before you know."

She took a deep breath. Seeing the opportunity to bait him,she was determined to take it. "You and I had an arrangement and you honored it to the letter. You've been kind and you treated me better than I deserved to be treated, considering the circumstances. You took me to the St. Cecilia ball and then you…," She allowed the sentence to hang, unfinished. "I'll be gone just as soon as I'm well. Then you'll never have to concern yourself with me again." She frowned then shrugged, "I don't want you to accuse me of stalling for time."

He laughed harshly "Goddamn it, you nearly died, to hell with our agreement. You'll leave when…"

She broke in. "I'll leave when I want to, which will be as soon as I am able. You won't be the one to tell me what to do anymore," said Scarlett, struggling to turn and face him.

"When was I ever able to tell you what to do?" Rhett asked incredulously. "You've always done whatever you wanted, whenever you've wanted…"

"That's the pot calling the kettle black," countered Scarlett tartly. "I've overstayed my welcome." He couldn't help but note the emphisis on the word welcome. "Besides," she continued, "I wouldn't want you to stop sending money to cover the upkeep of the house in Atlanta because one morning, when you're cross with me over something I've said or done, you decide I've nullified our agreement by overstaying my 'welcome'."

"The money I promised you will be deposited in your account in Atlanta and I'll continue to pay the bills on that mausoleum in Atlanta," he retorted angrily.

Scarlett felt a new strength surge through her veins. He was getting angry, anger was an emotion that Rhett tried to keep under control and now there were breaks in that control. She could reach him; she smirked hoping to anger him further. "You won't have bother much longer on that last count, I'm going to sell that house to whom ever is insane enough to want to live in it. Unless you'd like it," she added sweetly.

"You'd just give it to me, how terribly kind of you. Don't forget, I've already signed the papers turning the house and a monthly housekeeping stipend over to you. Would you do the same for me? "

Her composed mask slipped for a minute, the thought of living in that house without Rhett and Bonnie made her stomach twist. In a few years Wade would leave for university and then Ella would leave for finishing school and she'd be alone in that echoing, empty house.

Rhett mistook her extend silence on the matter as an admission that she'd never just give away a valuable piece of property. He couldn't help but make a comment to that effect. "You'd never give away that house." He laughed sardonically, "Scarlett O'Hara, Atlanta's own lady bountiful."

"I'd do it in a heartbeat," she cried, "I hate that house and it would serve me fine to never spend another night in it."

"Then why did I pour so much of my ill gotten gains into building you that goddamn monstrosity," he roared in one of the rare instances where he lost his usual hold on his emotions.

"Rhett, is this a bad time?" Miss Eleanor asked from the relative safety of the bedroom door.

Scarlett and Rhett turned toward the doorway, their faces alike with expressions of embarrassment at being caught in the midst of an argument.

His face became clean, wiped of all emotion as he crossed to the door to greet his mother. It was only after he greeted his mother that he glanced at the man just behind her. "Doctor Cross?" There was trace of surprise in his voice. "I was under the impression my sister was going for Doctor Bastin?"

The younger man shrugged his shoulders absently. "I really couldn't say. Miss Butler appeared on my doorstep and enlisted my aid, if you'd rather Captain Butler, I could leave."

Miss Eleanor saw Rhett's eyes narrow as his lips twisted into a grimace of dislike. She interceded quickly, hoping to avoid a rehashing of long dead grievances. "No, of course not, thank you for coming on such short notice Doctor Cross. I don't know if Rosemary told you, but it's about my daughter in law, Scarlett."

Doctor Cross nodded, pointedly ignoring Rhett. He walked into the room and stood before Scarlett. "Good evening Mrs. Butler, I am Doctor Cross." He managed a smile for her, it was stiff, the smile of a man unused to smiling often or for very long. "I was introduced to you, albeit briefly, at the St. Cecilia Ball."

She could not readily place him; there were so many people there that the many faces and names blurred together in her weary mind. "I'm sorry that I don't recall, was it early in the evening? The beauty of the Hibernian Hall so overawed me so I can only recall how wonderful it all was," she answered in the manner she had so often practiced at her mother's knee. She'd learned that as a girl, if you didn't remember meeting a gentleman, remain noncommittal and instead, make a comment about how lovely the affair was.

"I believe it was just under the dome," prompted Doctor Cross.

When she failed to voice any sort of sign of recognition Doctor Cross's slightly abrasive manner settled back over him like a veil. "Miss Butler mentioned you were involved in an accident about a week ago, could you describe what happened?"

"I suppose I could, if you'd think it might help. Rhett and I went sailing the morning after the ball. The boat capsized while my husband and I were out. We were caught under the boat for some time and then when we reached shore," she blushed at the memory of what precisely had taken place when they'd reached the shore, "Rhett found a cabin for us to shelter in. I don't remember very much after that, I fainted."

He smiled again at the word fainted, this time there was an amused glint in his eyes. "I doubt you fell into a lady like swoon that could have been solved with some smelling salts. You were unconscious for a prolonged period of time?"

Scarlett was immediately off put by the Doctor's brusque manner despite his attempt at another smile. Trying to answer his queries as best she could, she continued, "Yes, I suppose so. I remember my husband returning to the cabin with some Yankee soldiers and a doctor. Then I lost consciousness again. That's everything that I can recall. I've been dizzy and tired ever since I woke up in."

"Fine." He reached for her wrist and removed his pocket watch from the front of his vest. He waited a minute and then nodded. "Your pulse is rapid and from the heat radiating from your skin, you obviously have a fever." He opened his leather satchel and withdrew a strange instrument.

"What is that thing," asked Scarlett, eyeing the elaborate tube connected to a sort of cup.

"It's an invention from the French. It was shown at the Paris Medical Expo two years ago. Doctor Learner calls it a stethoscope. It will enable me to more accurately listen to your heartbeat." He turned to face Rhett. "Captain Butler, if you'll step out of the room I'd like to further examine Mrs. Butler."

Scarlett looked at Rhett, her eyes wide and afraid. The only two doctors that had ever examined her were Dr. Fontaine, who had helped bring her into the world, and later Dr. Meade. The thought of this strange man with his arrogance and off putting ways examining her made her made her skin crawl. There was naked pleading in her wide green eyes and Rhett could not desert her. "I think I'll stay if it's all the same to you," he added the Doctor's first name in a voice so condescending it sounded like a verbal slap, "Jason."

Doctor Cross bristled at Rhett's use of his first name "It most certainly is not all the same to me, your mother may remain if you wish your wife to have a chaperone, but I will not examine her with you standing there, calculating the meaning of my every word and gesture."

Scarlett came to a split second decision. Rhett disliked this man so immensely that perhaps it would be best to just allow Doctor Cross to examine her so that he could leave. He did seem very competent and though she was focused on recapturing Rhett's love for her, she also wanted to walk again.

"It's fine Rhett, Miss Eleanor will stay with me."

Rhett crossed to Scarlett's bedside, nearly elbowing Doctor Cross in the stomach. He leaned forward and surprised himself and Scarlett both by kissing her gently on the forehead. It wasn't passionate; in fact, it was reminiscent of the way he would kiss Bonnie after she awoke from the clutches of a nightmare.

"I'll be right outside, if you need me, just call."

Scarlett smiled faintly. This was the old Rhett who she caught glimpses of over the last few months during her stay in Charleston. He did care about her. No matter what he said about wanting her to leave Charleston he obviously wasn't as sure as he once claimed he was about his feelings for her. "Thank you," she said, smiling slightly.

He made the mistake of looking into her eyes to see whatever there was to see in them. They were soft and wide, filled with an innocence and trust that he'd so seldom seen before. She trusted him to protect her and though he'd never been a man to be swayed by a damsel in distress, how could he disappoint her when it was evident that she trusted him so completely to come to her aid should she call?

He bowed to her, straight from the waist, every bit as elegantly as when he'd bowed to the general assembly at the Atlanta Bazaar during the war. He closed the door behind him, leaving it ever so slightly ajar so that he could listen in if Scarlett needed him.

R.

D 2

T 18

Y 75


	3. Facing the past and Facing Desires

_**I own nothing, if I did I'd be on my yacht with a handsome man/boy named Carlos. OLE**_

Rhett stood in the hall, waiting for Doctor Cross to finish. How could Rosemary ask a Cross into the house to treat Scarlett? The feud between the Cross family and the Butlers was a Charleston legend. For years, the families co-existed within the same town but not without numerous encounters occurring between Cross's and Butlers.

The final event in the long history of altercations between the families was the duel between Jason Cross and Rhett Butler when they were just nineteen. Jason Cross, but not the Jason Cross currently tending his wife. No, the Jason Cross that Rhett had shot and killed was the good Doctor's older brother who bore the same name.

It was over the Jason's younger sister, Virginia. Virginia Cross, the girl that Rhett took buggy riding that fateful day in April 1845 that would lead to him becoming ostracized by every moral, self-righteous family in the antebellum south. His horse had been startled by something in the woods off of the dirt road they were traveling down. The horse bolted, the buggy threw a wheel and by the time Rhett and Virginia reached home, on foot, Virginia's reputation was on the verge of being beyond redemption. Rhett refused to marry her, loudly and in plain words. Virginia was pretty, but nearly witless and Rhett would be damned if he'd be tied for the rest of his life to a little ninny.

The only reason Rhett even took Virginia out for a ride after church that Sunday was because he knew it would annoy his father to have the Butler heir consorting with the enemy. The Butler men had always had a certain affinity for Cross women, but his father would have never had to concern himself on that count. Virginia was lovely to look at, but Rhett had long before decided that he was never going to marry and if he did, it would be to a quiet, well-mannered, genteel southern lady who would one day run the Landing with the same grace his mother did.

Rhett smiled, thinking of the woman he had married. The only time Scarlett was quiet was when she was sleeping and even then, she would often snore lightly. Well-mannered? Certainly, she could be. Scarlett knew how to play by the rules and appear in public as the genteel fragile southern lady, she just often chose not to. If only the young Rhett Butler had known what kind of woman he'd one day marry, thought Rhett chuckling softly. But just what kind of a woman was Scarlett? He couldn't think about that now, if he started to expand on Scarlett's good and bad points, he'd only be even more likely to go back to her.

His mind continued to wander, back in time, back to the duel with Jason Cross. He told the Jason's father that Virginia was a fool and that he'd done nothing to be punished for. When an angry Jason Cross asked him if he considered marrying his sister a punishment, Rhett said as much, enraging her older brother. Virginia's father demanded satisfaction on his daughter's behalf. When Rhett initially refused, Jason wasted no time in demanding either a wedding or a duel. Rhett reiterated his earlier stand. He'd rather kill or be killed then be tied to Virginia Cross.

They met in a field just outside the town limits. Rhett's cousin, Eustace, served as his second and Phillip Dea, a distant cousin of the Cross's several times removed, served as Jason's. Dueling was by that time on the decline in North and South Carolina, but the young men didn't care. Jason would not allow his sister's honor to be besmirched by a man who was thrown out of West Point and Rhett wasn't willing to be forced into a marriage with a girl that he'd only taken for a ride to bedevil his father.

_Walking their ten paces, they waited for Eustace's count of three but on the pause between 2 and 3, Jason spun and nearly shot Rhett in the back._

_"Rhett," yelled Philip. Philip was a Cross by marriage but, he was also a man of honor, he couldn't let his cousin dishonor the serious nature of a duel._

_Rhett spun around and shot Jason before he had a chance to shoot him. Dropping the pistol, Jason sank to his knees, his hand pressed just below his collarbone. Then, as deep gurgling noise came from him before he slumped backward, awkwardly sprawled on the ground._

_The other young men present quickly formed a semi-circle around the dying youth. Jason opened his eyes only once after he'd fallen to the ground. His eyes locked with Rhett's and he grinned macabrey, blood running from between his lips. "I'll see you in hell." His eyes closed again and his body went limp._

_Philip looked at Rhett who continued to stare down at the rapidly cooling body of Jason Cross. "Rhett, you did what you did because Jason nearly shot you in the back. That wouldn't have been a duel; it would have been murder. We'll have to let the family know that he tried to fire before the call. You had to shoot first whether you had the right to or not."_

_Rhett shook his head. This was his chance, perhaps his only chance to escape the rigid mold that his father hoped to force him into. He would have to be sent away, to family perhaps, or even a university somewhere. It never occurred to the impetuous young man that his father would forever banish him. He only saw a chance for freedom, and he meant to seize it. "No, bad enough his sister's ruined, I'll be damned if they find out their family champion was a coward and a cheat."_

_Eustace, who saw his uncle clearer than Rhett did immediately tried to reason with his cousin. "Your father will disown you. Rhett, for the love of God Almighty, you'll be cut off from everything good and decent in the south. You have to tell the truth"_

_Eustace's desperate pleading fell on deaf ears. It was no good; his mind was made up. Charleston believed that Rhett killed a family enemy after dishonoring Virginia Cross. Rhett's father ordered him from the house telling him that he was no longer his son. His name was stricken from the family bible and his name was to never be mentioned again in his father's hearing._

_Years later, during his visit to Charleston with Bonnie, Rhett learned that Adele Cross, Jason and Virginia's mother had given birth to a child ten months after the infamous duel, she named the newborn Jason to honor the brother he would never know._

What Rhett couldn't know because it wasn't common knowledge was that Virginia, a spinster, spent years filling the second Jason's ears with tales of the man who had shot and killed their brave older brother.

Adele Cross died just after her son's birth. It was Virginia that took over all the duties of a mother. She fed and bathed him, teaching him his ABC's and numbers. At night she told him bedtime stories about princesses in towers that needed to be rescued and about the man that had dishonored her and then murdered her brother, the first Jason As the years passed, her tales became more embellished until the truth of the duel in which Jason had died was buried beneath layer upon layer of out and out lies.

In Scarlett's room, Jason Cross continued his examination. "Now, Mrs. Butler…" Both Scarlett and Miss Eleanor looked at Doctor Cross. He let out a short bark of laughter, "For the time being, I am going to call you Scarlett as it is bound to become confusing very quickly what with so many Mrs. Butler's in Charleston."

Miss Eleanor didn't appreciate Doctor Cross being so familiar with Scarlett but she would let it go, for the present. What could Rosemary have been thinking in bringing Jason Cross into the house? Sometimes she thought Rosemary acted completely without judgment or consideration of consequences. "Doctor Cross, Scarlett's come down with a cold, is there anything you can give her?"

Doctor Cross nodded "I do have some lozenges that will help her sore throat but your head cold isn't the main issue, is it Scarlett?"

"No, it's not. I can't entirely feel my legs; I can't stand even though I could feel how cold the floor was through the bottoms of my stockings. The doctor who saw me at Fort McHenry thinks that the paralysis is temporary, but I wanted a second opinion."

Doctor Cross looked at her for a moment before bending down and laying his hand on the floorboards. "Are you cold, in general I mean?"

"Not anymore, I feel very warm now."

Doctor Cross walked to the foot of the bed and cradled Scarlett's stocking foot in his hand. Pressing his thumb against her heel, he asked, "Can you feel any sort of pressure?"

"A little."

Doctor Cross increased the pressure against Scarlett's heel, digging into her soft flesh. "Does that hurt?"

"It doesn't feel any different, Doctor Cross what's wrong with me? Please, if you know then just tell me."

He continued to probe her foot, hoping to incite some sort of reaction, but there was little response from Scarlett. She could only feel a gentle pressure on her heel and again on the ball of her foot. Doctor Cross was becoming grim as he failed to get more of a response.

Her voice rose. "I can tell by your face, what's wrong," she cried out.

R.

D 2

T 18

Y 75


	4. Facing reflections of the way life was

**Now the only thing that is between us...is the coffee table**

**Classic.**

Rhett was leaning on the wall outside Scarlett's door when he heard her cry out in agony. Without waiting to see if she would call him, Rhett flung open the door. Scarlett was ensconced in his mother's arms, weeping as though her heart would break.

"What have you done to her," Rhett asked in a clear steady tone as he quickly crossed the room in distance devouring strides.

Doctor Cross removed his glasses, their thin gold wire rims glinting in the lamplight. "I told her the truth," he said, unperturbed by Rhett's glare and it's promise of impending violence. "The circulation in her legs has been deeply impeded. I would hazard a guess that the low temperature of the water in the Atlantic must have been almost more than she could bear. Your wife is lucky to be alive. I believe she will walk again, in time, but for right now, I've told her that she is confined to bed. She is deeply unhappy with my assessment, but I'm afraid it's the only one I can give her."

Scarlett continued to cry in Miss Eleanor's arms. It wasn't even the fact that it might be ages before she walked again, it was that Miss Eleanor smelled of her usual lemon verbena toilet water and that both comforted and upset Scarlett in the same instance. She was tired and sick and wanted her mother desperately. She wanted nothing more than to be all of sixteen with her mother and Mammy tending to her and fussing over her every sniffle.

Rhett wanted to be the one to hold her close. He wanted to dry her tears and tell her that everything would be all right. He wanted to tell her that he would care for her and she would recover. He wanted to admit to her that she was still in his blood; wanted to admit that his mind and heart were engaged in a battle in which only one could emerge the winner. It was a battle over her and his feelings toward her. He wanted to tell her that contrary to what he had told her in Atlanta perhaps he was willing to risk his heart a third time or a thirtieth time. He was coming to realize that he would never be free of her.

Doctor Cross spoke finally. "Scarlett, look at me." His tone of voice left no room for disobedience.

Scarlett lifted her head. She was shaking and her green eyes were red rimmed. Wordlessly Rhett handed her his handkerchief but she only looked at it before putting it down, unused. She then turned her attention to Doctor Cross.

He smiled encouragingly "I swear to you, this is a temporary state. By this time next year, you'll dance across those black and white tiles in Hibernian Hall at the Saint Cecilia ball." His smile became kind. "I shall be sure to offer my name for your dance card in the very beginning of the evening as I am sure it will fill up quickly."

Scarlett blushed. In spite of the feelings of discomfort that Doctor Cross inspired in her, he was a man and a handsome man at that. Her natural inclination toward belle took over. "Why Doctor Cross, how you do run on," she commented noncommittally.

"Jason." He replied offering her the use of his given name. "Now, here are your instructions, they're not recommendations. Follow them to the letter. I am going to leave you some lozenges for your sore throat; drink plenty of fluids although not milk as I find that it irritates some people with colds. A week of bed rest…"

A week," interrupted Scarlett incredulously, "I can't stay in bed for a week, I'd be stark raving mad with boredom after a day."

He pretended as though she hadn't objected, "at the end of the week I will re-examine you to further consider what course your rehabilitation should take." He paused, looking for something to tell her that might put a week of bed rest in a better light. "Besides a week of convalescence means breakfast in bed and time to catch up on your reading or embroidery."

The thought of Scarlett doing crewelwork while lying in bed caused Rhett to laugh aloud. She turned her head, giving him a look of displeasure. He smiled, this was the Scarlett he knew and…no, before his mind played tricks on him, he had to stop thinking about the things he knew and enjoyed about her. He wouldn't consider what else he felt for Scarlett until she was well again.

Rhett leaned down and chucked her lightly under the chin. "Never fear, I have the perfect way for you to pass the time. It just so happens that the books from the mines are a complete catastrophe. I'll bring them here and you can sort through them and find fault with my brother's arithmetic."

"Rhett, that isn't funny," scolded Miss Eleanor.

"It wasn't meant to be, what do you say Scarlett?"

She was considering it, Rhett could tell. "Bring the books that you need done first and an empty ledger. I'll redo them all for you. After all, anything is better than a week of repeatedly pricking my finger."

Doctor Cross had already begun to place his instruments reverently in his leather satchel. "Are you good with figures, Scarlett?" Doctor Cross inquired in a conversation tone of voice.

Rhett began to say something at Doctor Cross's use of his wife's first name but his mother shot him a look of warning, best let it alone for now it said plainly. Though it was against his better judgment, he nodded and ignored it, for now.

Scarlett answered plainly, not bothering to be embarrassed at her decidedly unladylike talent. "Yes, I've always had a head for figures. I suppose it was actually the only thing I had any sort of a talent for in school. I use to help my mother balance the books for my father's plantation." She did not add the obvious before the war. That was implied.

"My sister did the same for my father," commented Doctor Cross blandly. Rhett gave the doctor a warning glare. Virginia was not a subject he wished to hear discourse on in any way, shape, or form.

Doctor Cross snapped shut the clasp on his large black leather satchel." Mrs. Butler a pleasure to see you again. Scarlett I'll check in on you sometime this week." He once again neglected Rhett. "I'll show myself out then, good evening." He bowed politely to Miss Eleanor and Scarlett and left, closing the door behind him.

"Scarlett, would you like me to find someone else to treat you?" Rhett asked.

She shook her head while Miss Eleanor fussed with the pillows that had been propping her up. "He's certainly no Doctor Fontaine or even Doctor Meade, is he? Is he always so abrupt?"

Rhett shrugged "I have no idea as to the general state of Doctor Cross's bedside manner, he is most likely the first Cross to voluntarily tread the floor in a Butler's home in close to seventy years."

"Rosemary shouldn't have asked him to come, should she," asked Scarlett neutrally.

"No, but then sometimes my dear sister and common sense aren't the closest of companions."

"Now darling, she thought that Doctor Cross was more suited toward caring for Scarlett than the… very elderly Doctor Bastin," commented Miss Eleanor. "Now if you both will excuse me, I've a few things that require my attention before retiring for the evening."

"Is it as late as that," asked Scarlett.

Rhett removed his pocket watch "It's nearly 9:30."

Scarlett laughed "No wonder I'm exhausted. Good night Miss Eleanor."

Miss Eleanor smiled and leaned over Scarlett, gently grazing her cheek. "Good night darling, I'll see you tomorrow."

Miss Eleanor kissed Rhett as well after he too wished her a good night. Finally, they were alone once more.

"9:30 at night, I never thought I'd see the day when Scarlett O'Hara would consider that anything but the shank of the evening." His voice became heavy with concern. "How are you feeling, really?"

Scarlett shrugged "Like a burden, I hate having to be taken care of."

"That's ridiculous, you aren't a burden." He nearly added "You're my wife, who else should take care of you?" but thinking better of it, he instead seated himself in the brocade chair by her bedside.

"You should get some rest," he said.

"That's good advice, will you be taking it as well," she asked sweetly.

"I'm not ready to turn in yet."

"Well neither am I," she said, stiflingly a yawn.

"Suit yourself," he replied

"I will. Turn in or don't, it's of no consequence to me so you do whatever you like."

"I generally do," he replied, grinning rakishly.

She met his smile with a reluctant one of her own, it was hard to keep herself aloof when all she wanted was him. "Well if you insist on staying, you may as well make yourself useful."

"What do you suggest?"

"Tell me a story."

"A story," he asked incredulously, "you mean a bedtime story? I'm afraid I may be out of practice."

"I'll bear with you, come now it can be about anything, just till I fall asleep," she pleaded.

"I do have a story. It's about a beautiful titled woman and a pirate."

"A real pirate," she asked suspiciously.

Rhett lowered his voice, placing his hand over his heart "I swear, a real walk the plank sort of pirate." He raised one eyebrow at her and drew his lips into a prim line. "Now, if I may continue without interruption from the audience?"

Scarlett gestured imperiously "Please, don't stop on my account."

He tapped his chin lightly, "Now where was I? Ah yes the pirate captain. His name was Christopher and he commanded several ships during the War for Independence. Technically, of course, the American's called him a privateer because he was looting British and German ships, but make no mistake, he was not a pirate for noble reasons. He was a pirate to make a fortune."

"Like you were a blockade runner during the war?"

He laughed heartily at her jibe "Quite right, if you remember, I once told you there was a great deal of money to be made out of the building and destruction of a society. The pirate captain was the scourge of the British and on one particular raiding adventure he captured a prize beyond price belonging to the interim governor of South Carolina, a Tory named Lord Archibald Cross."

Scarlett interrupted Rhett's narrative without thinking "Archibald Cross, is he any relation to Doctor Cross."

He was pleased that she didn't call him Jason, as she'd be invited to. "Shh, don't spoil the ending of the story. The prize the captain captured was a woman, Lady Gwendolyn Hargrove who was coming from England to be married to his lordship, Lord Archibald Cross."

"Was she beautiful?"

"Was she beautiful you ask? Well, it's hard to say. From what I gather from paintings of her, when she wanted to be, she was."

"Who wouldn't want to be beautiful?"

"I'm sure I couldn't say but I can tell you what she looked like. Her skin was pale like aged ivory and her hair was as black as coal. But, Lady Gwendolyn was more than just a beauty; she was proud and unafraid to find herself the captive of one of the most infamous men to sail the Atlantic.

"In true romantic fashion, Lady Gwendolyn became so taken with the bold and fearless captain that she pledged herself to him. Being so overcome by her courage, beauty, and grace, he did likewise. They married as soon as they reached land. After the war ended, the Captain was granted amnesty for his pirate activities and he bought a grand plantation that he named Dunmore Landing after the county his family had come from in Ireland. But, it was not all smooth sailing for the happy pair; Lord Archibald Cross vowed revenge and thus a blood feud was born."

Rhett paused before deciding to end the story with the truth of the reason he disliked having Doctor Cross treat his wife. "The feud continued through the years fueled by various skirmishes and minor confrontations between the Butlers and the Cross'. Minor, that is, until the afternoon that the pirate captain's grandson shot Lord Cross's grandson during a duel."

Suddenly it was clear to her just what part the Cross' played in Rhett's past. "Doctor Cross's brother was the man you shot?" Her eyes widened as she recalled the rest of the gossip Cathleen Calvert had told her at Twelve oaks nearly a decade ago. "Then his sister was the girl you took buggy riding years ago?"

He gave her one of his twisty smiles, half smile and half smirk. "My reputation precedes me. Yes, I took Virginia Cross for a buggy ride. I then refused to marry her, which ruined her in the eyes of Charleston society. After the duel in which I shot her brother, no decent family in the south would receive me until during the war when Miss Melly decided I was really a true gentleman. Later when I was charming the old cats on Bon--, " he paused, his face sad.

"When you charmed them for Bonnie," she said softly.

"Yes, then after that I could once again circulate amidst the crème de la crème of Southern society."

"You once told me you had a pirate in the family, I thought you were teasing me."

He honestly couldn't recall the conversation. "When did I tell you about my grandfather?"

She smiled as shy as a girl with her first beau. She had been carrying Ella when he told her about his pirate grandfather. She knew now that he had been driving her because he had wanted to protect her because he loved her. "Once when you were driving me back from the mill, when I asked you what you thought our grandchildren would be like."

He grinned. "Ah yes and I then chastised you for being so forward as to suggest that one day you and I would have mutual grandchildren." Rhett failed to notice the stricken, just slapped look on Scarlett's face at the mention of the word grandchildren. He smiled fondly remembering one afternoon when they rode together through the falling autumn leaves on their way back from the mills. The sun was golden on that lazy afternoon as it streamed through the scarlet, yellow, and orange leaves. Occasionally a gust of wind would dislodge more leaves from the canopy of branches overhead causing leaves to float to the ground like jewel hued snow flakes.

He was so lost in his reflections that he failed to notice how sad she'd grown at the mention of their grandchildren. She had turned slightly on her side, facing away from him.

"Scarlett? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, I think you can go to bed, I'll be fine."

"If I didn't know you better I'd think you were telling the truth. Was it something I said?"

"Yes. No, it doesn't matter."

"Let me be the judge of that, why are you so upset?"

She did not reply.

"Please? I'd like to know if I've offended you." When she didn't respond he continued in a gentle manner that completely unlike their recent conversations. "If I did offend you, it wasn't intentional I assure you."

"I believe you. I'm just tired. Thank you for worrying so. It's really very kind of you."

'Stubborn as ever, at least some things never changed,' thought Rhett. "Good night Scarlett, sleep well."

"Good night Rhett." She closed her eyes to make it clear to him that she was going to sleep and that all topics of conversation were currently closed.

"Would you like me to stay with you till you fall asleep?" Rhett asked, a note of amusement at her obstinacy creeping into his voice.

She spent a minute considering his offer. She wanted to tell him no, that she'd be perfectly fine without him, but the thought of being alone depressed her terribly. No, if her plan to push Rhett away were going to work she'd have to do just that. "I'll be fine, thank you though."

"I'll leave the door ajar between our rooms in the event you do need me, good night Scarlett." He left the room without so much as kissing her cheek. Scarlett frowned, burrowing further down into the covers. A week of bed rest would at least give her time to plot her next campaign in her battle to win back Rhett.

F.

D 2

T 19

Y 75


	5. In dreams and under the wan moon

Rhett placed his hands behind his head. From the moment he'd gone to bed, he had lain awake listening to Scarlett's gentle snores coming through the open door between their rooms. He could recall only a few weeks ago, when she'd first arrived at his mother's home, being uncomfortable with the idea of them having adjoining rooms during her stay. He'd thought that perhaps she'd attempt to use their adjoining rooms to her advantage. There were several times when he thought he'd heard the floor board creak on the other side of the door. He waited patiently for her to make some sort of an attempt to seduce him.

He shifted again seeking a more comfortable position. Now with Scarlett's health in jeopardy and the amount of time that would pass before she'd be able to walk unassisted he only wished she'd come though the door and lay in bed with him, trying to work her wiles against his resolve.

It was becoming difficult for him to dwell on the unpleasant things that had occurred between them. Now lying in bed with sleep eluding him Rhett could only recall how happy he had been when she'd accepted his proposal of matrimony. The days after when he had returned to Atlanta to find her waiting for him were some of the happiest he had ever known.

During his crossing of the Atlantic, he had paged through several of the books he'd bought for his younger sister. One of the poems, from a volume by a talented, but fairly obscure poet whose name had escaped him, had stuck in his mind, in part, because the lines echoed his own experiences. Those early days could only be described as the days of Wine and Roses. The lines to the poem came to mind and he dwelled on them for sometime appreciating the beauty in the simple lines.

"They are not long, the weeping and the laughter,  
Love and desire and hate;  
I think they have no portion in us after  
We pass through the gate. They are not long, the days of wine and roses:  
Out of a misty dream  
Our path emerges for a while, then closes  
Within a dream."

_In the state of consciousness between reminiscing and dreams, Rhett drifted off. _

_She had asked him about being married in the Catholic Church once he'd returned from England. At the time he agreed, secretly amused by her still evident ties to the faith in which she had been raised. _

_One afternoon, just before their wedding, Rhett had brought a picnic lunch to her office at the mill. She had been trying to tie up some loose ends before they left for their honeymoon and he'd thought that he'd play the attentive fiancé and bring her a picnic lunch from the kitchen at his hotel. _

_Scarlett had been so glad to see him. Knowing that she was happy that he was near her left him in a wonderful mood. He felt so unlike himself, finally he'd have the woman that he had waited for so long. He'd wanted Scarlett since she'd broken that vase long ago and now, finally, she would be his. _

_After they'd finished eating, she'd thanked him once again for agreeing to marry in a church when she knew he'd prefer a justice of the peace. He'd laughingly told her that if they married in the Catholic Church she'd never be able to remarry if he were to divorce her because of her spending on clothes and shoes. She'd only stuck her tongue out at him in a mock petulant manner before smiling prettily. "Fiddle Dee Dee Captain Butler, it's taken you six years to find me in a position where I'm able to accept your proposal of matrimony, you'd never let me out of this marriage." _

_He was so simply happy that he'd finally won her that he laughed and impetuously swung her around in a circle in the middle of her office. A bubble of laughter came from her lips at his carefree attitude and impetuously she had kissed him on the lips. He was so eager for their wedding night that it was all he could do to keep from shoving the masses of papers from her desk and ravishing her then and there. _

_"In just three days you'll be Mrs. Scarlett Butler," he told her as she straightened up her desk in preparation to end the day's business. _

_"I know," she replied thoughtfully. _

_"Will you stay with me at the hotel on Friday evening or at Miss Pittypat's?" _

_She flushed from the arch of her widow's peak to the skin that was visible at her collar. "You'll be my husband Friday afternoon, why wouldn't I spend Friday evening with you?" _

_She was trying to be brave and a woman of the world. She was also trying to please him, he could tell, and his pleasure in her knew no bounds. Even if she didn't love him, he knew she cared for him more than she would admit. He took her in his arms and though he felt her stiffen nervously, he wasn't offended. Instead, he brushed a kiss on her forehead and held her. The tension left her and she wound her arms loosely around his waist. "Then I shall reserve the Grande Suite at the hotel." _

_"That will be nice," she murmured noncommittally. _

_"I'll see to it that we have a bottle of the best champagne in their wine cellar." _

_"Yes," she said her mind obviously elsewhere. _

_It wasn't on Ashley Wilkes. He had seen the expression her face wore when she was thinking of Ashley and this was different face. It was one he'd never seen before. She was shamed by whatever it was she was thinking, so to comfort her he spoke gently. "I won't hurt you," he said quietly. _

_The shame Scarlett felt at revealing her inner most fears to him was dueling with a desire to be honest. After all Rhett, for all the things he was, still didn't deserve a wife who was in some unknown way damaged. _

_She titled her face up to look him in the eye. "I think, that is I know, well there's something wrong with me." She was now as red as a fall apple at even thinking of discussing such a sensitive subject with Rhett Butler. _

_"What could be wrong with you?" he teased gently. _

_"I mean bodily, there is something wrong with me." She could no longer meet his eyes and was now starring at his shirtfront. _

_He tipped her chin upwards so he could see her face. "You mean because you don't enjoy 'marital relations'?" He asked, getting straight to the point in an attempt to alleviate her embarrassment. _

_It didn't work. She pulled away from him and quickly made her way to her desk to give herself some distance. "We shouldn't talk about such things, it isn't appropriate. I know what marriages requires and don't worry, I've never welshed on a deal yet and I don't intend to start with ours." _

_He came to stand in front of her desk as she made herself busy to avoid meeting his inquiring glance. "Did you ever feel anything like desire for Charles or Frank?" _

_Her head snapped up so quickly that she looked startled. "What kind of a question is that? I married them, didn't I?" _

_He smiled "You did indeed. You married Charles to make Ashley Wilkes jealous and Frank to save your family's home. I can't imagine that either situation was enough to light the fires of passion in the depths of your soul." _

_"How you do run on, you're just determined to discuss inappropriate subjects today aren't you?" she asked acidly, completely disregarding the fact that she had initiated the conversation that she was now desperate to end. Her Georgia drawl was becoming more exaggerated and he could tell she was becoming angry. Whether it was with him and his line of questioning or her self was difficult to determine. _

_"Scarlett, come here," he asked her, his voice kind with gentleness that she seldom heard when he was addressing her. _

_"I have work to finish," she said, giving the first excuse she could think of. _

_"Please." _

_She felt drawn to him; he could see it in the curiosity that had replaced her initial reluctance. _

_She stood before him, ready to stay or flee back to the supposed safety of her desk in an instant. _

_"Why are you marrying me? We've established it's because of my money, a part any way," he added, teasing her with her own words. _

_"Because I knew you wouldn't allow me a moments peace until I did agree," she replied boldly. _

_"You sound as though you're fairly certain of my feelings about you." _

_"I'm not completely," she said, her chin still held high and proud. "I'm still not altogether certain why you want to marry me so badly." _

_He moved forward and took her into his arms again before she had the chance to think. "I want to marry you because I want you so much that I don't know how much longer I could live with that longing." He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her, there was no aggression in his embrace. He was waiting to see if she would take the lead. _

_She wrapped her arms around his neck and abandoned caution. She kissed him back while running her fingers though his hair. He bit her bottom lip gently, which caused her to moan aloud. _

_"I want you," he whispered against her lips. _

_"You've said", she replied, her voice shaking as she tried to deny the excitement his touch caused within her. _

_He wanted to reassure her so that she could perhaps look forward to their wedding night with anticipation instead of seeing it as a duty to be preformed. _

_"I swear, when I make you my wife on Friday, whatever happens between us, I will never hurt you." _

Rhett sat up in bed and ran his hands through his hair absently. What if instead of telling her that he wanted her he had confessed that he loved her? True, she would have tried to use the information against him, but if she had known that she had his love perhaps she wouldn't have been so determined to have Ashley's.

He swung his feet over the edge of the bed and stood up. He knew he couldn't fall back to sleep. First, he would check on Scarlett and then he'd go downstairs to the library and find something to read.

Rhett walked through the door joining Scarlett's room to his own. She lay in the center of the bed, the covers flung wildly to the side of the bed where they dripped off the bed in a waterfall of fabric.

He approached the side of her bed and began to pull the blankets back onto the bed so he could he cover her. His hand brushed her bare arm and the heat radiating from her skin transfixed him. He lit the bedside lamp so that he could take a better look at her. Beads of sweat covered Scarlett's face. Her hair was damp with it. Laying the back of his hand on her brow; the heat sent him from the room to knock on his mother's bedroom door.

Years of plantation and family emergencies had shaped Miss Eleanor. She was at the door before Rhett could knock on it a second time. She tied the belt of her night wrapper and waited expectantly.

"Would you sit with Scarlett, I've got to go for Doctor Cross." The name was still repulsive to him but at this point, the wisdom of involving yet another doctor in Scarlett's illness was non-existent.

"Yes, of course, go and get dressed." Miss Eleanor hurried into Scarlett's room and brushed her daughter- in-laws forehead with the back of her hand. "Rhett, she's burning up."

"I know mother," Rhett said loudly from his room as he drew on a pair of trousers. He then grabbed the first overcoat his hand fell on. He came back into Scarlett's room and kissed his mother, "I'll be back as soon as I can."

Miss Eleanor took a handkerchief out of her wrapper pocket. She wet it with some water from the tumbler on the bedside table and gently wiped down Scarlett's face.

Scarlett groaned at the touch of the cold cloth. "Mother," she cried, "Mother, I'm so hot." She was delirious and Miss Eleanor could tell from the wild look in her eyes she had no idea where she was or who was caring for her. Miss Eleanor didn't correct her. Right now it wasn't all that important if Scarlett thought she was Ellen O'Hara.

"Yes, darling, I'm right here," she said. Her low voice was soothing and seemed to momentarily calm Scarlett.

Scarlett's lashes fluttered and closed and she was still for a moment or two. Miss Eleanor waited expectantly hoping that Scarlett was regaining her wits but when she opened her eyes, Miss Eleanor could tell that Scarlett wasn't herself just by the wild look of panic her face took on after she surveyed the room. "Where are we, where's pa?" she asked frantically.

Thinking quickly, Miss Eleanor continued to wipe down Scarlett's hot face. "We're in Charleston, visiting Aunt Pauline. Your father is at home". She thought frantically 'what was the name of the O'Hara plantation, oh yes, "He's home at Tara."

The guilt over telling Scarlett such a lie was alleviated by the look of relief that replaced Scarlett's earlier panic. "Mother, I had a terrible dream," Scarlett said, her voice growing faint with exhaustion.

"It was just a dream", said Miss Eleanor again, her voice soothing and low sounding very much like the late Ellen Robillard O'Hara, "Was it about the storm?" She remembered when she would nurse the wounded during the war and the infections would drive those soldiers into fevered delusions before they'd lose consciousness. She thought it might be right to keep Scarlett awake at least till Doctor Cross arrived.

"Storm, no, I don't remember a storm. I dreamt there was a war and you died and pa was out of his mind and everyone was so tired and hungry." Scarlett laughed a little, "Then I married old maid in britches Frank to pay the taxes on Tara. " She began to cough, hard and Miss Eleanor put her arm behind Scarlett's back and tilted her till she was almost sitting up. Scarlett continued to cough, harsh barks that caused tears to spring to her eyes.

"Mother?" Rosemary stood at the door to Scarlett's room blinking sleep from her eyes. "I heard Scarlett, where's Rhett?"

"He's gone for Doctor Cross, Rosemary, she's burning up and her cough is getting worse. She's hallucinating. I think she has water in her lungs."

"From the ocean?" asked Rosemary in confusion at the possibility of such a thing.

That brought a brief smile to Miss Eleanor's face. "No you silly girl, here, help me lay Scarlett down." With Rosemary's help, Miss Eleanor was able to arrange Scarlett into what she hoped would be a comfortable position.

Scarlett had passed out and Miss Eleanor spoke to Rosemary in an attempt to keep from shaking Scarlett and begging her to stay awake. It wouldn't do any good and it would only scare Rosemary. "Water in the lungs, my dear, is what we mothers call croup in an adult. She's asleep again."

"She really is sick, isn't she?"

"Yes. She really is."

Rosemary stood at the window watching the sidewalk in front of the house for her brother and Doctor Cross. She toyed with one of the bobbles hanging on the curtains. "Do you think she might die?"

Miss Eleanor looked up and frowned. "No, why would you ask such a thing."

"I wish I'd been nicer to her while she was here. It's just that…" Rosemary was at a loss for words. Her mother was unaware of the difficulties between her brother and his wife and now wasn't the time to tell her mother about these difficulties, nor was it her place to betray a confidence.

Her mother didn't push. Miss Eleanor had learned over the years that it was pointless to attempt to draw information out of Rhett, Ross, or Rosemary when they didn't want to give it.

Rosemary was afraid Scarlett would die because of Rhett, Miss Eleanor smiled faintly she was so glad that Rhett had finally come home and that he and his sister were so close. "Rhett loves her very much, doesn't he?" said Miss Eleanor gently.

Rosemary could see her brother and Doctor Cross; they were just crossing the road in front of the house. The street lamp on the corner and the almost full moon overhead washed the street in a silver glow. Rosemary could just make out her brother's face with the illumination provided by the combined sources of light. His face was grim as he urged on Doctor Cross.

She sighed, no matter what her brother had told her about no longer loving Scarlett, she knew that was wishful thinking on his part. No one who loved a woman for as long as her brother loved Scarlett could simply turn his back once he had heard her confess her love for him. "Mother, I think he loves her more than even he knows. I think if anything were to ever happen to her it would destroy him."

Moments later Doctor Cross and Rhett entered the room. Doctor Cross was calm and looked completely nonplused at having been dragged from his bed in the middle of the night. "Good evening Mrs. Butler, Miss Butler," Doctor Cross placed his satchel on the dresser. "How is the patient?" he asked, as he laid his cape on the bench in front of the vanity.

"Doctor Cross, thank you for coming out so late. I'm afraid Scarlett's much worse. She's burning up and she's been talking about her father and she thought I was her mother. Initially, I thought she had only fallen back asleep, but I'm afraid she's lost consciousness."

"Doctor Cross nodded. "Fever, headache, sore joints, cough, and a sore throat. The fever induced dementia is also very telling."

"Why not try telling us something?" commented Rhett dryly.

"I suspect Scarlett has influenza, which has been running rampant in the slums by Washington Square."

"But I haven't heard of anyone in White Point Park or Winter Gardens having influenza," said Rosemary.

"No, but I've heard that there were several cases reported over at Fort McHenry, which is where Scarlett was taken after her accident," said Doctor Cross. He withdrew a thermometer from his satchel and gently lifted Scarlett forward. "Captain Butler, if I could ask for your assistance."

Overcoming his dislike of the doctor Rhett stood next to Doctor Cross and waited for instructions.

"I need you to sit her up and support her head." Rhett complied and Doctor Cross gently pried Scarlett's mouth open so that he could slide the thermometer under her tongue. Scarlett eyes opened and she began to struggle at this intrusion.

"Scarlett, can you hear me, it's Doctor Cross, I need to take your temperature, don't struggle, it's all right." Doctor Cross's voice was soothing and at the same time commanding. She stopped moving and nodded slightly.

After several minutes, he removed the thermometer and shook it hard. "101 degrees. Scarlett, are you with us?"

She coughed trying to clear her throat. "Yes, just tired is all."

"I imagine, it's hard work being ill, isn't it? Now, I've been asking Miss Eleanor about your symptoms, but I'd prefer to ask you. I know you have a fever and cough, is your throat still sore?"

"Very."

"Do you have a headache?"

"Yes, my head's spinning."

"I also suspect that some of your difficulty in walking may come from sore and swollen joints from the influenza. So in a positive light when you get over this bout of influenza you may find that some of the pain you've been feeling in your legs and hips might just clear up."

"Aren't you the optimist," she said, before another coughing fit rendered her unable to speak.

Doctor Cross laughed. "I have been called many things in my years in practice, but never an optimist. As long as you rest this should pass in about two weeks."

Scarlett glared at him "So now I'm stuck in this bed for two weeks?"

"Your gratitude is overwhelming."

Scarlett blushed and looked down. "I'm sorry Doctor Cross, it was good of you to come and see me. It must be nearly 3 o'clock in the morning."

"More like 4." His smile took some of the sting from his words. "Now Mrs. Butler, Miss Butler; why don't you both return to bed. I'll stay and keep an eye on Scarlett."

Rosemary yawned without covering her mouth. She had been dozing off against the wall by the window and she blinked rapidly. "Good night Doctor Cross." She kissed Miss Eleanor and Rhett before picking up Scarlett's hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I hope you feel better soon."

Scarlett tried not to convey surprise at Rosemary's kind words. It wouldn't be ladylike and she knew the effort that Rosemary was making to be polite had cost her much in the pride department. "Good night Rosemary. Maybe tomorrow you'll find something in the library for me?"

"What would you like?" asked Rosemary in confusion.

"I've no idea, I only ask that whatever you pick, it doesn't have any sickbed scenes."

Rosemary laughed. "When Scarlett wants to be charming, she certainly can be, thought Rosemary.

Miss Eleanor kissed Scarlett's forehead softly. "Good night dear, I'll see you in the morning."

"Good Night Miss Eleanor," said Scarlett smiling. The feeling of being so well cared for was almost worth the bother of being ill. Miss Eleanor and Rosemary closed the bedroom door leading to the hallway behind them leaving Doctor Cross and Rhett standing next to the bed.

"If there's a spare bedroom available I'll rest for a little while incase Scarlett needs me again."

"Why don't you just go home? I'll sit with Scarlett," Rhett said firmly.

Scarlett yawned deeply. "Doctor Cross, I just want to thank you for coming so quickly. Do you think I'll need a doctor again tonight?"

"Honestly, I think you may. Mrs. Butler said you were delirious at one point when your fever broke. She also said you were confused about your surroundings."

"I didn't know where I was? I don't remember?" Scarlett said, her brow puckered in a frown. How could she not know where she was, had she said anything to Miss Eleanor about Rhett wanting her to leave? She was embarrassed tremendously at having possibly said something about the situation between herself and Rhett.

Noticing how anxious she looked, Rhett spoke "There's a room directly across the hall that's unoccupied, you can rest there."

"Thank you, if Scarlett needs me, don't hesitate to disturb me. Goodnight."

Doctor Cross shut the door behind him leaving Rhett and Scarlett alone.


	6. Reunions

He stood in front of the chair by her bedside and stretched his arms over his head. Settling back into the chair, he turned to smile at her. "Hello." 

Scarlett smiled back shyly. "Hello."

"How are you feeling?"

"Awful, embarrassed; there are so many choices I hardly know which to pick."

"You're embarrassed about being sick, that's ridiculous." He reached out and smoothed her damp hair away from her brow. The moisture from his mothers wet cloth had caused a few tendrils of her hair to curl.

His touch made her feel warmer still. She regretted not taking advantage of his caresses when they were in the early years of their marriage. If only she had realized that it was his touch that had constantly made her feel so cherished and enthralled.

Ashley Wilkes had never caused those feelings in her. True, sometimes his touch would make her heart pound, or a warmth to course through her veins. But after she had returned from her honeymoon with Rhett that had changed. While she had continued to fantasize about him, she had never felt the old thrill of excitement. When Rhett brushed a lock of hair from her face or placed his hand in the small of her back she could only recall the way his hands felt on her in their most intimate moments.

She sighed, still thinking about the past. "I'm embarrassed that I was babbling to your mother about heaven only knows what. I only hope I didn't say anything that shocked her."

"She didn't look particularly shocked when Doctor Cross and I arrived. I'm sure your secrets are safe with my mother."

"Being able to keep a secret runs in your family does it?" she asked him.

"Have I ever told anyone that you broke a priceless antique vase that afternoon at Twelve Oaks?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"Well," he said, "Where do think I acquired my ability to keep a secret from?" He smiled at her in a self-satisfied manner.

"Rhett, for what it's worth, I'm sorry that this has been such an inconvenience. I'm sorry that I, well I suppose the word I am looking for is blackmailed you into allowing me to stay for the season."

"Think nothing of it, after all what chance did I stand, you learned the art of blackmail from the best."

She laughed though he could tell it hurt her throat. "Do you remember what you told me you'd do if I refused to marry you?"

He shook his head, as he said, "No, I don't…Good God, yes I do remember what I told you. I told you I wouldn't go on my trip to England. I believe I promised to stay in Atlanta and play a guitar under your window every night and sing at the top of my voice and compromise you so you'd have to marry me to save your reputation."

"Do you even know how to play the guitar?"

"You married me so I never had the chance to find out."

"Rhett Butler, you are a scoundrel."

"And you've only just discovered this now?" His voice was teasing.

"Well let's just say, I've suspected."

"Suspect no more."

"Rhett, I'm afraid that I have to ask you for a favor. I'm sorry to put you in a position where I'm asking you for yet another favor especially since I've thrown your whole family into turmoil over me."

"Ask me your favor and let me be the judge of what's asking too much."

"Wade and Ella were expecting me over a week ago. I've been here in Charleston for nearly three months before that. They've only just lost Melanie and now it must feel as though their mother has abandoned them as well. I know you think I'm a horrible mother, but I love my children the best I can. I don't want them to think that they aren't important and that I've turned my back on them. Please, will you let me send someone for them? I want them here with me. I know it's a great deal to as…"

Rhett didn't let her finish her plea. "I'll send Suellen a telegram tomorrow morning to let her know that Rosemary will come for them on Friday." He hated himself for telling her she was a bad mother. She wasn't the most affectionate mother but she always put Wade and Ella ahead of her own personal expenses.

While they were waiting for Scarlett to wake up after her accident, Melanie had told him that many nights Scarlett went without anything for dinner so that she could give her portion to Wade. Melanie had told him something about her own mother, that she loved her son and daughter very much, slaving over dresses for Melanie's dolls and a miniature Texas Ranger uniform for Charles, but her mother had only said the words I love you aloud perhaps a dozen times in her life. Some woman, Melanie told him, weren't as easy with showing affection as others.

"Rosemary? You're going to send Rosemary to spend nearly 8 hours on a train with two children, one of whom is extremely, well…" Scarlett fished for a word before settling on, "giddy, not to mention under the age of ten," in spite of her sore throat Scarlett began to giggle. Soon those giggles became outright laughter. Gulps of laughter bubbled helplessly from her lips. Rhett raised his eyebrow in mock indignation.

"And just what's so very laughable Mrs. Butler?"

"Your sister abhors children. You can nearly see her palm itching to slap them when she's in the same room as them."

He fixed his gaze over her head. "She's not as bad as all that."

"You look me in the face and tell me that," Scarlett countered.

He gave her his best poker face, "My sister adores children."

"So long as they're in another room two houses away," Scarlett finished.

"You are being needlessly cruel. Absolutely right, but still cruel." He grinned suddenly. "Let's tell her we're sending her anyway, just so we can see the look on her face."

"Now who's cruel? But whom can we send?"

"I'll ask my sister in law Emily, Ross's wife."

"Do you think she would?"

"If I were married to my brother, I would leap at the chance for a few days away from him."

Scarlett yawned behind her hand. "Excuse me."

"Go to sleep Scarlett, we'll finalize the details in the morning."

"Good night Rhett."

When he didn't rise from the chair, she smiled softly. Half of her wanted to tease him a little about his devotion in the face of his earlier claims that he no longer cared what happened to her. The other half, the more sensible half, told her to just let it be and to enjoy the comfort his close proximity gave her.


	7. Projects

The sunlight streamed through the bedroom window as Rosemary nudged open the door to Scarlett's room. He brother, normally so dapper and well groomed, had fallen asleep in the chair next to Scarlett's bed, his beard shadowed face resting on his chest. Scarlett was huddled in a ball in the middle of the bed, deep under the covers. Quietly making her way across the room to lay her hand on her brother's shoulder, Rosemary shook him lightly. He woke immediately. "Rosemary," he said, pitching his voice low so as not to wake Scarlett, "What time is it?" 

"Nearly 8. Mother sent me to check on Scarlett. Doctor Cross has appointments this morning and he wanted to examine her again before he leaves."

"And how is the good doctor this morning?" asked Rhett, sarcasm apparent in his voice.

"Can't you let bygones be bygones? Doctor Cross has never done a thing to you or any other Butler for that matter."

Rhett ignored his sister's question and tenderly rubbed Scarlett's shoulder. "Pet, wake up."

Scarlett was a fabric-covered lump in the middle of the four-poster bed. He could see her foot and one of her slim ankles was exposed, otherwise blankets covered everything including her head. Her foot twitched slightly, but aside from that movement she was still.

"Scarlett, are you awake?"

"No."

He smiled at her refusal, muffled as it was by the bedclothes. "Just for a little while then I swear I will draw the curtains and you may laze about in bed to your hearts delight."

He could hear her sigh. A moment later, she struggled to sit up. Her hair was a becoming tangled halo around her face. The flush had not yet left her cheeks but she seemed to be in better spirits than she had the night before. "Am I being awakened so Doctor Cross can poke and prod me to his hearts content?"

"He says he just wants to make sure your condition hasn't deteriorated since last night," said Rosemary. She was almost jealous of Scarlett, to have Jason Cross concerned about her would have been very exciting. The doctor was handsome and well read and completely different from nearly every man in Charleston. She had first noticed him just before the start of the season and ever since had sought out any opportunity to make herself known to him.

"So long as it doesn't involve myself and any foul tasting goop served in a teaspoon, I'll be happy to oblige," replied Scarlett, making a face at the thought of some bitter medicinal concoction.

Rosemary laughed "I take it you aren't an advocate of the wonders of miracle elixirs."

"I'd rather try my luck with old folk remedies."

"Like kissing a toad?" ventured Rosemary.

"Better a toad than some vile smelling concoction," replied Scarlett primly.

Both women laughed. Then just as the laughter died down, Doctor Cross opened the door to Scarlett's room, the groaning of the paneled wood door sounded exactly like the croaking of a rather elderly bullfrog. Scarlett and Rosemary took one look at one another and let peals of laughter ring out.

"Ah, the laughter of beautiful women, Captain Butler, you're indeed a lucky man to wake to such a lovely sound," commented Doctor Cross from the doorway.

Rhett didn't even acknowledge the doctor's presence. "I'm going to get dressed, I'll be back soon."

Scarlett smiled, "Unless I'm sleeping."

"Especially then," he replied straight faced.

"You promised," she reminded him.

"I lied," he said with a sardonic grin as he closed the door to his room behind him.

"Miss Butler, will you stay please, for propriety's sake."

Rosemary moved over by the window. "Doctor Cross, I would like to apologize for my brother's behavior. The things that he holds against your family occurred so long ago, before you or I were even born."

Scarlett raised an eyebrow at Rosemary's impassioned apology. Then like a bolt out of the blue, it came to her. Rosemary was in love with the stiff, upright Doctor Cross. Of course, that would explain why she had been so nervous around him. It also explained why she went for him instead of the Doctor Rhett had requested.

Her unbiased eye examined Rosemary. Rosemary would be very pretty if she did something with…well anything. If her hair was arranged in a more becoming manner, if her dress was a little more southern belle and a little less ink stained scholar. The suggestions of occupying her time convalescing with reading or embroidery weren't very appealing, but what about an attempt to make over Rosemary's dowdy appearance? She could happily throw herself into that project for at least two weeks. Besides she concluded, if she helped Rosemary perhaps she'd put in a few good words about her efforts to Rhett.

"Scarlett your temperature is still high, I want you to stay in bed, do you understand?" said Doctor Cross.

"Every bit as well as I did when you told me I had to remain in bed for two weeks, that was only four hours ago," she said casting her eyes downward modestly.

He laughed, not fooled by her demure demeanor. "Fine, now see that you do. Rosemary, will you see me out?"

Rosemary beamed. "I'll be back in a little while Scarlett. Would you like a tray sent up?"

"I think I could just manage toast and tea, thank you Rosemary. My stomach is still fluttery."

"I'll see you tomorrow after I finish my rounds Scarlett just to check on your progress."

The pair left and Scarlett smirked. At least a project to keep her occupied had presented itself.

"Well you're grinning like the cat the swallowed the canary, if you're scheming, you must be on the road to recovery." Rhett lounged in the doorway watching her in a speculative manner. He must have been watching her for longer than she had realized.

"I'm smiling at the thought of seeing Wade and Ella," she said quickly. That wasn't a lie, at least, not exactly. She found strangely enough she couldn't wait to see them. It just seemed it would be easier to put her plan to get Rosemary a suitor into action if Rhett didn't interfere.

He was looking for something in her face and realizing this, she smiled at him. It wasn't a flirting smile or a smile that was meant to wheedle something from him. It was simply a smile and not finding an ulterior motive behind it pleased him. "You miss them, don't you?"

"I do, truly, I do. I wish I were more comfortable with them, but I do love them and I hate that we've been apart for so long. I find myself realizing that there are things about them that I miss and I never would notice I did if we weren't apart. I never realized that I actually enjoy Ella's stories, though they never really seem to have an end, do they."

"Yes, Ella's stories are a little convoluted aren't they?" smiled Rhett fondly.

"I wonder if Wade's started sketching again?"

"Perhaps being at Tara will have inspired him. Now, if you'll excuse me my good lady wife, I have business to attend to." He bowed and she smiled sweetly.

"Mister Butler, when you want to be, you can be mighty charming."

"Why, I've often thought the same of you Mrs. Butler." She graced him with her best gently reared southern belle manners. She smiled sweetly; meeting his eyes with her own for a moment before she flushed prettily and turned her eyes downward toward her hands. She made the gestures so obvious that he couldn't help laughing.

Rhett took her hand in his and graced the back of it with a kiss. "Good morning Mrs. Butler." He lingered a heartbeat longer than propriety would dictate and they were both aware of that but neither acknowledged it.

"Good morning Mister Butler and thank you, for everything."

"You are most certainly welcome, for everything," he replied as he left her room.

Scarlett smiled at the door. She was willing to stake her reputation as one of the most popular belles in Clayton County that Rhett Butler was still in love with her. Now all she had to do was nothing at all but be herself, the self that she had been before the war. She wouldn't worry about money or business. She would be charming and retreating at the same time, a complete mystery. The more unobtainable she became the more he would pursue her until they were right where they needed to be, together.

She laughed in spite of her aches and pains and her sore throat. She laughed in spite of the fact that her legs didn't work today and still wouldn't work tomorrow and might not work again for ages. Her laugher subsided and Scarlett O'Hara Hamilton Kennedy Butler leaned back into her pillows and sighed. No matter what, she wouldn't lose Rhett.


	8. Visiting Ross

Rhett reined in Malcolm, his chestnut stallion, in front of his brother's modest home. His sister in law was already up and about, weeding the large flowerbeds that adorned the property. The house was situated close to the street, giving most of the lot to the back and side yards. Initially Rhett had purchased the house that Emily and Ross now called home when he had visited Charleston on his way to England after asking Scarlett to marry him. 

The house was handsome, built around the late 1790's in the Grand European style of the period it was a three-story affair with private balconies for each of the four bedrooms and a formal loggia on the third floor. The loggia was more of a recessed portico, the internal room, with pierced walls, open to the elements that Charlestonians had included in their lush dwelling since their forbearers from Europe had settled the area over a century before. It caught the salty sea breezes in the summer making it a popular retreat from the oppressive heat that baked Charleston for nearly four months out of the year.

He had thought impulsively that he might bring Scarlett to Charleston to live after they were married. It was only during his honeymoon that he realized Scarlett would never move that far from that white elephant of hers in Clayton County. She also had the mills and the store and the wooden headed Mister Wilkes in Atlanta. All she would have had in Charleston would have been her husband and her children. Certainly, that wouldn't have been enough to move to Charleston for, not at the time.

After his honeymoon, he had signed the deed of the Charleston house over to his sister in law and told her to tell Ross that the house had been left to her by a distant relation. At the time, they had been living in the house on the battery he had bought for his mother and sister when his father died. Before that, they had lived in the servant quarters of the house further down on battery that his parents had owned before the war. Emily's family's plantation, Ridgewood, had been burned to the ground during the shelling in 1863. She had been reluctant to take the deed but at the same time she longed to be mistress of her own home once more. Her only concern was what Ross would think, but as it happened, that wasn't an issue.

Ross hadn't cared. He had been glad to move out of the house that his brother had bought for his mother. Any way he could leave a tangible piece of his brother's financial largeness was fine with him. In his own home, no one would gently nag him about his behavior toward Emily or his drinking and late nights. The house suited him fine and he wasn't particularly interested in how Emily had somehow inherited a house from relatives that she was deterringly vague about.

"Good morning miss, is your mother at home?" Rhett asked laughing.

"Why no sir, and she's told me not to speak to strangers so I'm afraid I must bid you good day," Emily replied, as she stood and dusted off her slightly worn hands on her wide bleached muslin apron.

Rhett slid down from his horse and wrapped the reins around the hitching post built into the black Spanish wrought iron fence that circled the property. "Why Miss Emily, surely you know me, it's your long lost brother in law."

She gave him that look that he always thought of as an Emily, no nonsense, with a good deal of humor to temper it away from being priggish. "Long lost my foot, how is Scarlett?"

"Still very weak, she has the flu now and," the concern on his face sparked her motherly instincts.

"Come inside and have some coffee."

"Thank you," he accepted, offering her his arm to escort her into the house.

Emily poured out the coffee she had offered Rhett and helped her self to a biscuit before speaking again. The kitchen was homily and comfortable with cut flowers filling various bowls and vases. There was an elaborately carved pie safe, the tin-doored cupboard, where cooling pies were kept safe from swarms of sugar seeking flies. Her kitchen table, she scrubbed with fine sand on the last Saturday of every month, giving it a smooth honey glow.

His sister in law often reminded him of Melanie Wilkes, everything in her kitchen was in perfect harmony from the color of the walls to the bleached lemon colored muslin curtains at the large bay window. In Emily's case though, the domestic order she rigidly maintained in her home furnishings was a direct compensation for the lack of tranquility within her marriage to his brother Ross.

"Now that you've taken stock, how is Scarlett?" asked Emily.

"Honestly, it's hard to say. As I said outside, she has the flu, so she's feverish and achy. Doctor Cross put her on two weeks of imposed bed rest so I fear that by the start of week two, I may have to handcuff her to the bedpost to keep her abed."

"Well no wonder, someone as full of life as Scarlett doesn't want to be stuck in bed."

"She'll be in bed longer than two weeks. There were complications from all the time we spent in the water after the boat capsized. The circulation in her legs was damaged and now Doctor Cross thinks it's going to be months before she's fully recovered."

"You did say Doctor Cross, I thought I misheard you the first time. What on earth was Jason Cross doing treating your wife?"

"Rosemary decided to consult him instead of Doctor Bastin so now I suppose I'll just have to grin and bear it." He gave her a tight grimace that could have almost been considered a smile.

"Does Scarlett like him? Many of the ladies do, he's tall, handsome," she laughed "and of course he has that warm bedside manner," she added sarcastically.

"I can't say for sure, she doesn't seem entirely comfortable with him, you know how he is, ever condescending when addressing we mere mortals. I certainly can't stand him, he's brusque and unpleasant." Rhett shrugged before adding grudgingly. "He is also competent and better acquainted with the latest treatments than Doctor Bastin."

"Never the less, a Cross treating a Butler, how incredibly unforeseen."

"Speaking of unforeseen, how would you like to pick up two charming children from Scarlett's family plantation in Georgia?" He said displaying his fine straight white teeth in a winning smile.

"You cad, I thought this was a social visit."

"It was, in part. I've been meaning to come and visit with you. You see, Scarlett's son and daughter are at her family's plantation. She was supposed to go to them over a week ago. She misses them and doesn't want them to think that something more important than them came up."

Emily smiled fondly. She rather liked her unconventional sister in law, Scarlett, in Emily's opinion had the misleading face of a Raphael virgin with the mind of Ebenezer Scrooge. Emily was honestly intrigued by Scarlett and regretted not having had more of a chance to spend time with her while she had been staying with Miss Eleanor. "Scarlett loves those children, she always tells these little anecdotes about them that are just short of bragging."

"Of course she does, I never said she didn't love them."

"It's funny to hear you agree, didn't you tell me one night years ago that Scarlett was a disaster as a mother. That she spent more time on her lumber mills than she ever did on any of the children?" Emily asked inquisitively.

Rhett shrugged. "When I was here with Bonnie I left after Scarlett and I had a major falling out, I thought she had betrayed me and I couldn't accept that I'd never be first in her heart. I couldn't accept that there was good in her, that she could love anyone besides…" he just stopped himself before mentioning Ashley Wilkes. It wasn't fair to bring up Ashley Wilkes when he also had himself to blame for the incident that lead to him leaving Scarlett and taking Bonnie to Charleston.

He resumed the conversation before Emily could ask who it was that Scarlett had loved in Atlanta. "I just couldn't see the positive things that she did for the children. She always corrects Wade's mathematics homework, no matter how late she is coming home from the store or the mills. When he still had problems mastering basic arithmetic, she would help him on Sundays with it, even though I could tell she wanted to be doing something else. And Ella and Bonnie were always rummaging through her things, using her cosmetics or trying on every piece of jewelry she owned, but she'd just laugh and clean off the powder or put away jewelry," his voice became soft as he remembered that sometimes Scarlett could actually be very patient with the children, "Some of that jewelry was worth hundreds of dollars or more and she'd just laugh at them and then let them try on more."

"Rhett, being a mother isn't all sugar cookies and abc's. Scarlett loves those children in the best way she's able. Did she ever go hungry to keep food on their plates?"

Thinking back to his conversation with Melanie Rhett answered, "Yes."

"Did she work till her back nearly broke so they'd have a roof over their heads? Has she ever sacrificed her own happiness for their well-being," when Rhett didn't answer Emily decided to play the devils advocate and goad her stubborn brother in law into an answer, "or was she too selfish to make a sacrifice or two for them? She's always very well dressed, did Wade and Ella ever go around in rags so Scarlett could have a pretty frock on her back?"

"You know the answer to that Emily, for the love of God, she married a man she could barely stand to have touch her just to save her family's home. When he didn't live up to expectations, she ran a lumber mill and the store. I've never known a woman raised as she was, who could do something like that, there were other woman who started businesses, but they were ladylike affairs such as teaching or baking. Scarlett saw a fortune to be made and she made one."

Scarlett had sacrificed for her children; he knew that in his heart. In the biggest ways such as going without meals, but also in the small everyday ways that he had never fully given her credit for. Scarlett had been rocking Ella in her arms on the front steps of Pittypat's house the first time he had seen Ella. Though she had looked exhausted, she had told him that Ella had been cooped up all day while she had been at the mill office as neither Pittypat nor Mammy thought the crisp air was good for a baby.

Scarlett had told him, almost daring him to contradict her, that Ella liked the fresh air and wanted to sit a spell on the front porch. She hadn't thought Ella was particularly pretty he remembered and he knew that most of her feelings toward Ella were more responsibility than sentimentality, but her child had been unhappy so she had done something about it. She was a good mother and he was ashamed at ever suggesting to her or anyone else for that matter that she didn't care about her children.

"You admire Scarlett, I can tell by the way your face lights up with pride when you discuss her accomplishments, have you ever told her that you think her so competent?"

"Yes, certainly I have." He had hadn't he? Yes, of course he had, he told himself, didn't he once tell her he was ill bred enough to be proud of having a smart wife. Although in the course of that same conversation, he had told her that he was riding her with slack reins but he wouldn't hesitate to dig in the spurs if he had to.

"Did you ever tell her you were in love with her? I mean while she had a chance to do something about it, not in a past tense sense?"

He shrugged not wanting to dwell on his mixed feelings about Scarlett. If it were a matter of simply admiring the sheer brass Scarlett possessed then the answers would come with ease. He admired he tenacity, her refusal to give in no matter how insurmountable the situation seemed.

"If I did or didn't it's too late to undo the past. Emily, would you be able to go and bring Wade and Ella to Charleston?"

Emily frowned "I'll have to ask Ross if he minds."

"I have to go to the mine office to pick up something, I'll ask him if you like."

"You wouldn't find him there." She glanced toward the back staircase that led to the second story.

"He hasn't left for the mines yet? There were several things that needed his attention this morning."

"Your brother was sleeping on the landing this morning, he didn't make it to his room."

"I doubt he fainted from exhaustion, what time did my beloved brother get home?"

"I believe it was a little after 2 this morning, I didn't get up to check."

"I'll just go and wake him, make a fresh pot of coffee would you?"

"Rhett, please it's too early for a quarrel, are you going to start one?"

"I promise on my honor as a gentleman, I will be the spirit of grace itself to my erring brother."

"Don't do anything to make him angry, he'll forbid me to go and get your children. I would enjoy doing that, it will give me some time to myself."

"Fine, for you." Rhett left the kitchen and ascended the front stairs.

Entering Ross's room Rhett's nose wrinkled slightly at the smells of sweat, cheap perfume, and low-grade grain alcohol that assailed his nose. Rhett stood over his brother. Ross's clothing was a rumpled mess from being slept in. "Wake up, oh brother of mine," Rhett said loudly.

Ross stirred and sat up blinking in the bright light that was streaming through the windows. "Whata ya doing in a whorehouse," slurred Ross.

"I've often asked myself that very same question. Ross, forgive me though if instead of answering it I ask you a question…why aren't you at the mine office?"

His brother grinned crookedly, "Thought it was Sunday?"

Rhett took his brother's hand and heaved him off the bed. "Emily's making you coffee."

"Did she come whining to the high and mighty Rhett Butler about her drunkard of a husband? Father would roll in his grave to know that the black sheep is now our family patriarch."

Ross's supercilious attitude finally sparked a response from Rhett. "And your employer."

"You enjoy bringing that up every chance you get, don't you."

"Frankly Ross, no, I don't. If you don't mind, I'm going to wait for you downstairs, try to turn yourself into something like a gentleman won't you."

Rhett walked out leaving the door open. Rhett was only three steps down the hall before his brother slammed the bedroom door, just as Rhett intended he would. Something as ineffectual as a door slammed in his arrogant brother's wake would go a long way toward building Ross up to face the day.

As Rhett walked back into the kitchen Emily looked up from the fashion magazine she was idly paging through. He shrugged elegantly.

"My brother will be joining us shortly."

"What a treat," she replied sarcastically. If anyone else had been in the room, she wouldn't have made such an inflammatory statement for fear it would get back to Ross and there'd be the devil to pay but what ever she said to Rhett always stayed between them and vice versa.

"Don't worry, we have business to attend to. As soon as I pour some coffee down his throat we will leave."

Ross appeared in the doorway. Like Rhett, he was tall, just over 6 feet tall. His eyes were the same sparkling black brown with heavy brows that expressed more than his words ever did. His hair was far more accented with silver and gray than Rhett's even though he was nearly 7 years younger than Rhett. However, the countless similarities between the brothers were only skin deep.

Whereas Rhett had learned the art of mocking himself without a trace of self pity, Ross took every comment as a full frontal assault on his character whether the conversation was about the mines, or the war, or even the weather.

Ross's face was often completely without warmth or feeling for others. He barely tolerated Emily, thought his sister Rosemary was too much of a bluestocking to ever find a husband, and constantly accused his mother of interfering in his life and marriage. Ross knew it was his mother who had interceded with Rhett on his behalf in regards to his job at the mines.

He knew that his brother, not some fictional life insurance policy that his father had starved himself to keep, bought his mother's house on the battery. If Emily's someone or other hadn't died and left them the house they now lived in, he would have probably strangled his mother, sister, and wife; but not necessarily in that order.

It had been a massive comedown for Ross, to go from the favored son of the Stephen Butler to a man who was now dependent on the charity of his black sheep, older brother. The knowledge that his brother had become his keeper was bitterest gall. Years ago, on the day of his father's funeral his mother had found some white paint and painted over the black ink that Ross's father had used to blot Rhett out of the family bible. She put him right back in the space he had started out from, above Ross. Always, in all things, Rhett came before Ross.

To see his brother suffer a moment of doubt would be the ultimate pleasure. Everything fell right into his rich domineering brother's lap right down to a beautiful wife that he no longer wanted. Rhett's success, after being cast out with nothing more than his fathers words of condemnation and the clothes on his back, drove Ross to heights of jealousy that he could barely keep contained.

"Good morning Mrs. Butler," said Ross formally as he sat at the table awaiting his coffee. His greeting of Mrs. Butler wasn't said in the teasing tone of voice that Rhett had often used when he would call Scarlett Mrs. Butler. Instead, it was a formal greeting, as though to remind Emily that she belonged to him, to remind her that she wasn't anything more than the wife of Ross Butler.

"Good morning," replied Emily.

Rhett smirked disdainfully. Emily was always polite, she always gave way to her husband's wishes, but she seldom addressed Ross as Mister Butler. She was far above the pompous airs her husband gave himself. Emily had been highly sought after in her youth. Her family had been one of the DeSaussure's of St. Michael's parish before it had even been Saint Michael's. Her family had funded the split from Saint Philip's parish in 1751. Her family for generations had been mayors and princes of the church while the Butler's were just tiling their fields and engaging in some random acts of pirate activity.

Ross's father had been thrilled to procure Emily for him. Emily had been the final thing he needed to fully legitimize the Butler's as one of the première families in Charleston. If a family such as the DeSaussure's would allow their daughter to marry a Butler, especially after Rhett's fall from grace, then who could say what family baby Rosemary would be married into?

But then the war came only five years after they married. The Butler's and the DeSaussure's lost their fortunes as so many others had. The DeSaussure's legacy was almost completely wiped out. All four of Emily's brothers died. Two at Gettysburg, one at Vicksburg and her youngest brother Raul, her favorite brother, had been reported missing believed dead somewhere in the state of Pennsylvania. He had deserted his unit to head to the blood soaked, chaotic battlefield of Gettysburg to try and retrieve his older brothers bodies and bring them home for burial. He was never seen again. The only DeSaussure of the Charleston branch left was Emily. Her parents had died within weeks of one another in the first year of the war.

After the war, other families climbed their ways back to the pinnacles of Charleston society even without their fortunes, but there were no DeSaussure's left with whom Emily and Ross could climb. Ross resented Emily; he was trapped with a woman he wasn't attracted to, who had borne him no children, and who no longer had the wealth or family ties he had married her for.

Ross swallowed the last of his coffee in one throat scalding gulp and rose from his seat at the table. "I'll be home by five, I'd like dinner at six. Thank you Mrs. Butler," he said dismissively.

Rhett spoke absently as though the thought had just come to him. "Emily, why don't you and Ross join us at mother's for dinner. I need to ask you something Ross."

Ross's face became hard, what was his brother plotting now? No doubt something that was clearly to his advantage. "I'd rather not, perhaps some other time, six o'clock Mrs. Butler."

"I'd rather you did join us, that places us at an impasse doesn't it." Rhett's expression was bland, his voice pleasant but leaving no room for disagreement.

Ross nodded; keeping his fist from his brother's swarthy face was almost ripping him in two. "Fine. Anything to make my brother happy, I'll see you at my mother's house at 5:30 Mrs. Butler."

The Butler brother's left Ross's house by the back door so that Ross could saddle his own horse, Bennett.

Five minutes later, they were trotting sedately down toward the harbor front where the central offices for the six phosphorus mines that Rhett owned were located. The phosphorus mines were yet another sore subject between the brothers Butler.

Rhett had given thought to starting the mines as far back as 1859 or 60 just before the start of the war after a trip to England. One of his business contacts there had commented that the Italian government had banned the exportation of human bones for the use of fertilizer. The brisk demand for bones in England in the early 1800s had lead to the importation of bones from the Continent starting in 1815 and reaching a high of 30,000 tons annually. The Italian prime minister had criticized the English for collecting bones from old battlefields and burial sites such as the catacombs of Sicily. Hence, in 1859, the exportation was outlawed leading the British to scrabble for a new source of fertilizer. Phosphorus was being discussed in some circles as the next major source of fertilizer in Europe.

Through further research, Rhett learned that phosphate manufacturing began in South Carolina in the early 1840's. He had been vaguely aware of the mines that dotted the South Carolina shoreline but at the time, he had been far more interested in fast horses and faster woman than in rocks and minerals.

The mines mostly provided phosphorus for match making and other related fields including some forms of ammunition. During the war, the mines had fallen into disuse and bankruptcy. In the years after the war, the US government had commandeered the majority of the mines as rebel property. Very few businessmen realized the potential for the massive phosphorus deposits just waiting to be mined. Rhett had won several mines in card games with various high-ranking Yankees. The men who lost the mines thought they were getting one over on Rhett Butler, after all what was the real value of phosphorus anyway?

Unrefined in the US it was hardly worth a thing but with Rhett's various contacts he was able to export tons of it to the various bone mills of England and Germany. There it was refined into fertilizer making it worth its weight in gold. Now, in 1874, a thriving phosphorus mining industry involving sixteen companies in South Carolina alone subsequently evolved with an output of about 140,000 short tons in the past year alone. Rhett's fortunes doubled and then tripled.

Once again, Rhett had been in the right place at the right time, at least in Ross's slanted worldview. Never mind that Rhett had researched the mines and the need for phosphorus for almost fifteen years. As far as Ross was concerned, it was all luck and ill deserved luck at that.

Deciding to take advantage of the fact that his brother was obviously distracted by something Rhett spoke offhandedly. "Ross, I thought I should ask you before I ask Emily, I need someone to go to Tara, Scarlett's family's plantation, to bring my stepson and daughter here to Charleston." Rhett was careful not to sound over eager, if Ross thought having the children in Charleston was important to Rhett he'd say no out of spite.

Ross laughed snidely, "I thought Scarlett had been given her walking papers. After the way she's carried on all season her near death experience settles her tab, eh?"

Rhett ignored his brother's dig. "Will you allow Emily to collect the children?"

Ross almost said no just to show his brother who made the decisions in his marriage but on second thought, he concluded that if Emily were gone for a few nights, he wouldn't have to make it home at all. "Fine, I'll let her go, it will be good to have her doing something productive instead of moping around the house."

"I don't believe I've ever seen Emily mope," Rhett replied neutrally.

"She's always on about something, her latest crusade was to take in a child from the foundling home."

"And you said?"

Ross's face contorted angrily "Hell no, I'm not raising someone's bastard or castoff. If I have a child under my roof, it'll be my boy, not somebody else's. What man in his right mind would raise another man's children?"

"Ross, I can never tell if you're trying to be rude or if you just are without even trying."

Ross grinned slowly; his earlier comment hadn't been aimed specifically at his brother but how pleasant that it had applied to him. "That's right, you played daddy to Scarlett's brats, didn't you." He didn't go so far as to mention his late niece; he knew there was only so much that his brother would take from him.

Rhett's voice was neutral. He refused to let his brother start an argument though he seemed determined to do just that. From how he kept blinking and grimacing in the bright spring sunlight, Ross obviously had a hangover. He refused to be baited into an argument.

"Ella and Wade are both wonderful children, I'd appreciate it if you didn't call my children brats."

Ross pulled up on his horse's reins so that his brother was directly by his side. He lowered his voice as though he was afraid of betraying a secret. His whole manner was so farcical that Rhett raised an eyebrow sardonically. His brother was barely palatable this early in the day. "So, when are you going to tell your beloved children that you're sick and tired of their whore of a mother's treatment of you? Why bother brining Scarlett's br…children to Charleston, I thought you were planning on divorcing her shortly?"

Rhett spoke clearly in a low danger tinged voice. "What I do or do not tell my children is none of your concern brother."

Ross shrugged "Please yourself."

He wanted to let it go. It would be in the best interest of keeping the peace but Rhett found that he couldn't allow his brother free rein when it came to speaking about Scarlett or her children. He leaned across the ground dividing the horses; deftly he grabbed the reins to his brother's horse and drew the horse close against his own. Ross looked at him with real surprise tinged by fear.

"If you ever call my wife a whore again, I will forget that you are my brother and separate your tongue from your mouth." With those few curt words, Rhett dropped the reins causing Ross's horse to shy and edge forward for a moment before Ross got the nervous beast under control once more.

Furiously Ross turned to Rhett "Oh, now she's your wife. Two months ago you were willing to buy her off to get her out of your life forever and now she's a frail wilting flower to be protected at all costs."

"Who told you that I tried to 'buy her off'?"

Ross grinned maliciously "Our dear little sister confided in me. She so wishes her brothers to be the closest of friends, maybe she thought I'd feel sorry for you." Ross spurred on his horse and rode off ahead of Rhett.

Rhett's lips were a thin hard line. His brother would never know how close he had almost come to being dragged from his saddle. Rhett took a breath and exhaled slowly, his nostrils flaring with rage. He nearly beat Ross within an inch of his life. No one else in the world could ever call Scarlett a whore in his hearing and escape with all his skin intact, no one expect his worthless drunk of a brother.

What did the massive amount of rage still boiling in his brain mean, could he really be still in love with Scarlett? He didn't want her to leave Charleston…till she was better he added hastily. Till she was well and safe and loved…

_"Rhett, Rhett," she cried waking him out of a deep sleep. Instantly he pulled her into his arms and he rocked her gently, murmuring wordless nonsense till her sobs quieted to gasps and shudders. _

_"Shhh you're safe, you're here with me, and you are safe and well. Nothing will ever hurt you now that I'm here," he whispered into her hair as she cried against the curve where his neck and shoulder met. _

_He knew now that she had once again been in the depths of a nightmare. After New Orleans and their visit to Tara nearly two months had passed without a single bad dream, but tonight, their first night back in Atlanta she had one. Rhett only wished that he could chase away her nightmares or take them on himself. At least that's what he told himself, and for the most part, that was true. He disliked seeing her so fearful and anxious. There was an upside to her nightmares though, at least for Rhett. After her nightmares, for a little while at least, she was wholly his. _

_After she awoke from a nightmare, she was so clingy. She wanted to be held by him and told that everything was all right. He would smooth back her hair and hold her close and she would wrap her arms around his neck in an attempt to anchor herself in the world of reality and not dreams. She was so warm and loving then. Appreciative of everything he'd done for her since the day he had said his vows. She would allow herself to be stroked and petted without that guilty look that came into her eyes when she would think of that bastard Wilkes. _

_Scarlett was never ready to immediately go back to sleep after a nightmare. They would lay in the shadowy near darkness of their hotel room at the Grande National and talk. Sometimes she would tell him stories about her childhood at Tara or of her time at the Fayetteville Ladies Academy. Other times he would be the one to talk, telling her about his mother and the plantation at the landing. They spoke of her children and of her plans for the mills and the store. She never discussed the thought of their having children and he decided not to push her though he wanted a daughter with her shiny black hair or a boy with her brass and his eyes. _

_There were other times in the darkness when he would make love to her and she would allow herself to enjoy his closeness. She would run her hands up and down his back frantically drawing him closer as though he she could not be close enough to him. Early on, Rhett had suspected that she was pretending that Ashley was making love to her, but when she'd cry out "Rhett" as her head thrashed back and forth, her breath coming in short, shuddering gasps, he knew that there were only the two of them making love in their massive sleigh bed... _

A man's voice pulled him out of his memories of Scarlett. "Good morning Captain Butler."

"Morgan, good morning." Rhett handed down the reins to one of the office clerks. He was only glad that no one could read his thoughts; lately Scarlett had been in them more than he'd like to admit.


	9. The greatest of these is Charity

"Your brother is in a fine mood this morning," Morgan commented, as the two men walked across the crowded yard space to the office. 

"Now Morgan, when is my brother not in a fine mood?" Rhett asked sarcastically. "Incidentally, I've found someone to go over the books and transfer them to one main ledger, would you be so good as to gather up all the books from the first quarter of the year, bundle them with a blank ledger book, and have them sent to my mother's house."

"Right away Captain Butler, but I should tell you, your brother won't like it, he usually maintains the books."

"My brother does an adequate job with the books, but I want someone with a neat and clear script to put them in one complete book."

Morgan went off to do as Rhett asked. Rhett himself stopped to talk with several crew chiefs that had come to the office to discuss everything from equipment requests to the need for more men on a particular crew. He was still involved in this when his brother stormed out of the office.

"What the hell do you mean having the books removed? Are you accusing me of something," yelled Ross.

"Are you confessing to something," replied Rhett, in a low voice.

Rhett's causal but danger-tinged voice pulled Ross back from the path he had nearly embarked on. "What? No, of course not. I'm just curious is all, why would you have the books removed? Are you implying I'm not doing a good job keeping them?"

"I'm implying your handwriting is atrocious, I've found someone to transfer all the records into one main ledger. It isn't anything especially personal, I just like to be able to read whatever it is I'm looking at without having to stop to decipher it first."

"Why are you having the books sent to mother's, why not have them delivered to wherever it is they're going? Or don't you want me to know who will be going over them?"

"They are being delivered to where they are going."

"Who could you have in mothers house to look at the books?" His eyebrows drew together as his brow wrinkled with anger, "Scarlett? It's her isn't it? You're going to let a woman look at the books for our business?" He began to laugh, loudly. "Will she be embroidering slipcovers for the books when she's done checking my math skills?"

"I'll ask her," replied Rhett blandly, "Although let me draw your attention to two very important points. One, this isn't our business, it's mine. Number two, Scarlett owned not one, not two, not three, but four successful businesses in Atlanta during her mid twenties, that's four more businesses than you little brother."

Ross's lips twisted in a lewd grin "Well I don't have the same drive as Scarlett, I could never really see myself as a mada..," Ross was interrupted by four large men who all doffed their watch caps as they approached the Butler brothers.

"Sorry to interrupt Mr. Butler, Captain Butler."

"Yes," Rhett searched his mind for the man's name, "Mr. Callahan."

The broad shouldered Irish man smiled at being called by name by the owner of the mines. "Right you are Captain Butler, my brother Josh's Megan is expecting today. Meself, John, and Frank, would be willing to work two hours apiece extra today if you'd be willing to let Josh have the day. It's his first, this baby is."

The youngest of the men was looking at the ground twisting his cap. It was obvious to Rhett that the young man hadn't wanted his friends to ask for this favor. He looked like he was just waiting for Rhett to fire the lot of them for their impudence. "Josh, what do you hope to have a son or daughter?" asked Rhett attempting to draw the anxious younger man into conversation.

The boy flushed to the roots of his ginger hair. He lifted his head and spoke quickly, praying this moment would soon be over. "Doesn't matter sir, so long as it has ten fingers and ten toes."

Rhett smiled politely and Josh returned the smile shyly. In a burst of daring the boy added "And my wife's ears." Josh's ears were rather jar handle like and Rhett and the other men, except for Ross, laughed at this sally.

"These men, they want to work for you, are they all your family?" asked Rhett, moved by the fact that each of these men were willing to work overtime so that one of them could be present for the birth of his child. His own brother wouldn't throw water on him if he were on fire.

"Adam's my brother and John's my cousin. Frank's a friend o' the family, we're all from County Cork in Ireland."

"Family is where you find it among the Irish isn't it?" Ross remarked snidely.

"Aye tis," replied John warily. Captain Butler was all right enough to work for. He didn't mind getting his hands dirty in a pinch and he always had a nod or a greeting for his employees. It was Mister Butler that gave most often a case of the creeping willies," thought John.

Rhett laughed quickly hoping to alleviate the note of tension that had entered the air at his brother's words. He spoke as one of them, and even his Charleston drawl became less noticeable. Rhett had always had the gift of being able to fit him in anywhere and he did so now. "Don't I know it, my wife was an O'Hara before we were married. Half the time I suspect she's kin and cousin to half of Savannah."

Adam smiled broadly, Ross's earlier rude quip now all but forgotten. After southerners, no one more enjoyed unraveling the complicated tangles of cousins, nieces, uncles, and second aunts twice removed that made up their families than the Irish, "Sure she is, and you don't mean to tell me she's one of Tommy or Jamie's girls?"

"No, Scarlett's father's name was Gerald."

John laughed even harder his face lightening with pleasure. "Not the runt of the litter, Josh's Megan's mother is an O'Hara by marriage. Your father in law was the one who had the brass to name his spread Tara after the seat o' the high kings."

Rhett smiled. His whole attitude was balm to the men after the boorish behavior of Ross. To look at Rhett a causal observer would think he was pleased that he had some marital ties to his Irish mine workers, "See what I mean, more cousins."

"I don't mean to interrupt your family reunion but these men need to get to work," barked Ross.

"Josh take the week with pay, I wish your child health, wealth, happiness…and ears like his or her mother's."

The four men were dumbfounded for a moment before they all started to speak at once thanking Rhett for his generosity.

"No, please I'm happy to do it after all if Josh's Megan is an O'Hara a few times removed how could I not insure her the comfort of having her husband by her side?"

"Or in the kitchen with his hands over his ears," teased Frank.

"Josh, off you go. My brother does have a vaguely valid point, we all have work to do this morning."

The four men departed discussing Rhett's generosity in excited tones, each proud to work for such a generous man.

"You fool, now all of them will come begging when their wives drop another brat," groused Ross.

The joking good humor that Rhett had displayed to the four men disappeared as his eyes narrowed at his brother's lack of foresight. "You really can't see the ground I've just gained. Those men are now convinced they work for one of the most generous man in Charleston. Nearly two months ago when the mine workers were plotting a walk out, there wasn't a single one of them who thought enough of either of us to come and tell us what was about to transpire. Now these men need to protect their interests, and if I have the support of the Irish in the mines, they'll keep an ear to the ground on my behalf just for the future hope that I may do right by them again. Nearly sixty percent of our employees are Irish. Half of them are family to one another somehow or other. I need the support of these men to turn a profit."

Ross exhaled noisily through his nose. "I don't share your faith in your new found friends

"I don't honestly care." Rhett walked over to where his horse was secured to a hitching post. He pulled himself up into the saddle. "I'll see you tonight, try to be pleasant at dinner."

Ross didn't bother to answer; he turned and walked into the mine office.

Rhett shrugged. Though he wanted to be angry with his brother, he couldn't find it in himself. His brother had changed a great deal over the years. The war had hardened him into a crass drunk. Before the war, Ross had been uptight certainly and occasionally he'd make an off color comment, but that was generally the breadth of his hostilities. Now every word was a direct insult aimed at him. Rhett could only take his brother in small doses these days. If it hadn't been for his mother asking, Rhett would have never considered Ross for a position at his mines. Harsh, but true.

As he rode down Market Street, he wondered what his little minx was up to while stranded in bed. Rhett flinched slightly; he had been doing that increasingly in the last few months. Calling Scarlett pet names as well as thinking about her more fondly than a man who planned on divorce had any right to do.

Turning his mind to a more enjoyable subject, he was glad that his brother had simply decided to allow Emily to go and get the children. He had assumed his brother would make a huge fuss before forbidding Emily to go. Rhett was pleased that he would be able to tell Scarlett that her children would arrive within the next few days. Ella and Wade would do everyone in his mother's household a great deal of good. His mother needed children to spoil and Rosemary would find many things in common with Wade he was sure.

Now he wanted to buy Scarlett something tangible, a get well present. Flowers seemed too passé and jewelry would defiantly give her the wrong impression. Something to read? No, she would only roll her eyes and shove the offending volume under her pillow. Finally, he stopped at the tobacconist and bought her several fashion magazines including Godey's and Harper's Magazine. It would give her something to page through to pass the time.

Slipping the brown paper parcel of magazines into his saddlebag, Rhett thought of a gift for Scarlett that was bound to please her. He laughed aloud, not caring who heard or what they thought. He felt like a young man preparing to go courting instead of a man of forty-six purchasing presents for his own wife. With a smile on his face Rhett made one last stop at Rutledge's Confectionary on Broad Street where he bought a small bow bedecked box that was almost guaranteed to bring a smile to Scarlett's lips.


	10. Making Friends and influencing Rosemary

Rosemary sat on Scarlett's bed trying to be patient as her sister in law brushed out her long ebony hair that was nearly the same shade of crow black as Rhett's. 

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather me read to you?" asked Rosemary hopefully for the twentieth time that afternoon.

"No thank you," replied Scarlett sweetly as she stopped brushing for a minute to position a few stray locks of Rosemary's rebellious hair.

"Perhaps you'd rather I…" Rosemary started.

"It's either this or you could try on dresses again," threatened Scarlett, her voice firm.

Rosemary tried to turn her head so she could glare at Scarlett but Scarlett had already started brushing out Rosemary's hair again making it impossible for Rosemary to move her head without causing herself a moment of hair being ripped from her scalp. "You know when mother asked if I'd entertain you this afternoon I hardly think this is what she meant."

"I am entertained so you are carrying out her instructions to the letter, and don't think I don't appreciate it." Scarlett smiled to herself as she continued to untangle Rosemary's hair. It wasn't the most exciting afternoon pursuit, but at least she was learning a great deal about Rhett and his family and friends.

"This can't be OW!" Scarlett's brush had become ensnared in a tangled knot of hair and without thinking, Scarlett had jerked it out. "This isn't fun."

"So say you. You know Rosemary, you would be an absolutely breath taking young woman if you'd just take a little more care with your appearance."

Rosemary countered quickly "I resent that. Aren't my dresses always neat and pressed." She held up her hands to display her nails. "My nails are clean."

"And bitten to the quick," commented Scarlett. She caught Rosemary's hand in her own. "And you've all but torn off every one of your cuticles."

"My hands aren't important."

Scarlett was horrified; one of the few lessons so carefully imparted by Ellen that had stayed with her through the years was that the condition of a lady's hands revealed a great deal about the character of the woman belonging to them. After all, it had been her hands that had given away her circumstances to Rhett at the Yankee jail in Atlanta. "You can always tell a lady by her hands."

"I've heard that said," commented Rhett causally from her doorway.

Rosemary sprang from the bed eagerly. "Thank goodness you're home."

Rhett looked at the opened trunks and the heaps of clothing littering the room. Sheer chemise and pantalets were tossed atop ball gowns that were worth a small fortune. Other garments were heaped in haphazard piles at the foot of Scarlett's bed A mink cape was tossed carelessly on the top of a trunk and just under it, Rhett could see a length of claret colored silk with small seed pearls embroidered in a sweeping French curve pattern. Upon returning his attention to his sister, Rhett was just able to cover his surprise at the dress his sister was currently wearing.

Rosemary was wearing one of Scarlett's most ostentatious gowns, a deep v-necked emerald green watered silk that revealed a heavy amount of décolleté. He had banned it on site when Scarlett had first arrived in Charleston. Partially because it would have been inappropriate according to Charleston's rigid moral standards and mostly because the sight of Scarlett in that gown would have moved a Saint to consider committing sins of the flesh. Rhett had stamped out temptation at it's root by naming the dress as one of the ones he did not want to see on her during her visit to his mother's house. Now he wanted to see her in it, or attired in significantly less.

Rhett continued to lean in the doorway regarding his sister with an amused up tilt of his lips, it wasn't a smile and it wasn't a sneer. It was only a look that spoke of his amusement to see his normally strong willed sister being so effortlessly manipulated by his ironed willed wife. "Why Rosemary, you look lovely, emerald green though? I wouldn't have seen that as a color you'd choose for a ball gown."

Rosemary shot a look of indignation at Scarlett. "She insisted."

Rhett laughed before adding understandingly, "I've no doubt. How did you get yourself into that dress," he directed his attention toward Scarlett, "You haven't been over exerting yourself, have you?" he asked sternly.

Scarlett bestowed a particularly dazzling smile on him, "Certainly not, Carlen's niece, Independence, arrived this morning."

"Where is she now?" asked Rhett, coming into the room and clearing off one of the clothing draped chairs in front of the French doors leading to the piazza.

"Hiding," quipped Rosemary, "she knew Scarlett would turn the brush on her next."

"Fie Rosemary Butler, she's gone for some tea and soup for," Scarlett brought her hand to her forehead dramatically, "the invalid."

"How did Scarlett convince you to submit Rosemary? Threats, blackmail, tears?"

Rosemary looked at her sister in law and burst out laughing. Scarlett tried to wear an expression of wounded dignity, but failed after a moment. She joined Rosemary in laughing. Rhett watched as his sister and the woman who was still his wife tried to catch their breaths between bouts of laughter.

Rosemary sat back down on the bed. "This afternoon after lunch. Mother asked if I would keep Scarlett company for a few hours while she ran her errands. Wanting to help, I naturally agreed. When I came upstairs I brought Scarlett a book from the library, just as she asked last night. May I point that out to you, Miss Scarlett. I did not ambush you with a book, you asked me for one."

"Lies, if I asked you for a book it must have been because I was out of my mind with fever."

Rosemary's face changed for a barely discernible second before she continued. "Be that as it may, I found a book of poetry but as soon as I came into this room she asked me to come and sit by her. Then she attacked me with the hairbrush."

"Why you liar," said Scarlett her voice heavy with mock indignation. "I didn't attack you, I only pointed out that you'd look much more your age with your hair down."

"You told me I looked as though I'm in my forties," exclaimed Rosemary.

"Well, with that dowdy top knot, you do," replied Scarlett, smug in the knowledge of how attractive she was even while convalescing. Her own hair was done in an upsweep with a few loose waves framing her face. Her linen nightgown with trimmed with thin barley colored ribbon woven through the eyelet holes of Savannah convent made tatted lace. Even though she was pale and her cheeks were flushed because of the fever, Scarlett was absolutely breath taking.

Rosemary stuck her tongue out at Scarlett.

"Now you look like as though you are four," replied Scarlett pertly.

"Girls, girls," chided Rhett, sounding like an overwrought schoolmaster.

"Sorry Mr. Butler," chimed both girls in unison before they began to giggle again.

"So, let me see if I can untangle this. Rosemary, you agreed to sit with Scarlett because you thought you'd be reading poetry but Scarlett baited you into an involved round of dress-up."

The girls exchanged looks and smiled genially at each other.

"When you put it that way, you lose a great deal of the humor involved," said Rosemary.

Rhett smiled until his eye fell on the mantle clock. "Rosemary, why don't you run and get changed. Ross and Emily are coming for dinner tonight and it's already after three now. "

"Fine. Scarlett you will remember our bargain, tonight at least three poems."

"Fine, a bargains a bargain, but tomorrow remember what I said about your eyebrows."

"What you said about my eyebrows will haunt me to the end of my days. Get some rest," impulsively Rosemary leaned down and brushed a quick peck on Scarlett's cheek.

Rhett looked at Scarlett, his expression indescrutiable. "What in the world did I just walk in on?"

"I've decided to cultivate your sister. She could be a very pretty girl if she'd only change her hair. Also she needs some pretty frocks in light colors, she wears entirely too much somber brown and dowdy maroon."

"That's the project you've chose to pass the time, playing Pygmalion."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean by that," Scarlett reclined against the pillows.

Rhett smirked slightly; he nearly made a comment about her lack of knowledge in relation to classic literature but instead offered her the brown paper wrapped magazines.

She smiled "Rhett, how very thoughtful of you, thank you." She placed the magazines beneath her pillow. "That's for safe keeping, your sister will declare them contraband and substitute Dickens or Victor Hugo for Harper's and Godley's."

He suddenly became aloof, "I actually bought you another gift, a sort of get well present, but perhaps your stomach is too unsettled for them."

Her eyes lit up "Oh Rhett, please may I have my present?"

"You are such a child when it comes to presents, very well, pick a hand."

"The left," she said eagerly.

"No."

She pouted playfully. "Fine," she said, before crossing her arms over her chest.

"Would you care for a second guess?"

"There's only one other hand it could be in," she pointed out.

"Then your odds for choosing correctly are astronomical."

"The right hand then," she said trying to suppress a smile.

He brought a bow bedecked candy box out from behind his back. "For you."

She looked at the label and then up at him. "Bonbons. Rhett, that was very sweet." She laughed at the word sweet in relation to bonbons. "I've always loved this particular kind."

"Do you remember how I'd bring them for you during the war?" he asked nostalgically.

"How could I forget, you use to make up the most far fetched tales of the peril you faced to bring me a single box."

"Tales, I'll have you know every word was true."

"Mmm," she made a noise of disbelief but said nothing more on the subject. Instead, she carefully unwrapped the box and put aside it's top. She tilted the box and offered him the first piece.

"You'll spoil my dinner."

"Don't be silly, take one."

He withdrew one of the luscious dark hued pieces of chocolate. After taking a small nibble, he frowned. "They ought to have a little map to warn you of the potential for disaster," he commented off handedly.

"In life or in chocolates."

"Both," he said firmly, "But for an example, this piece was one I suspected to be a walnut or a pecan center, instead it's brandied cherry which is my least favorite of the lot."

"Ironically if you recall, that is my favorite and there is generally only one in the entire box."

"Would you like it," he offered with a small twist of the lips in what was a cross between a smirk and a smile.

"You've taken a bite out of it," she pointed out with primly pursed lips.

"That's true, however I'm afraid it's this piece from which I've taken a very small bite or you'll have to wait till tomorrow for another chance at a brandied cherry."

"You make a very valid argument," she reached out her hand for the chocolate but he held it just out of her reach.

"The filling is already started to ooze out, if you get it all over the bedclothes my mother will have something to say about it. Open your mouth."

She gave him a wry, suspicious smile, "I have a handkerchief all my very own, surely you believe me capable of eating something as simple as a piece of chocolate without making a huge mess?"

He wanted to feed her from his hand, did he?

_She could remember during their honeymoon in New Orleans when one morning he'd ordered a huge bowl of sybil cream and a large bowl of fruit, most of which had been out of season. He had dipped piece after piece in the cream and teased her mercilessly before popping each piece in his mouth. She had laughed for a change instead of being angry at being teased. Everything in their marriage was so different from her two previous marriages that she just wanted to enjoy this time. _

_Finally he had leaned close to her, his thumb and pointer finger holding a strawberry, he lowered the morsel of fruit to her lips and then just as she was about to bite down, he lifted it a little higher. She met his teasing smile with a shy one of her own. She leaned closer and then he lowered the strawberry to her lips, allowing her to have it. _

_After she swallowed, she leaned back against the pillows propped up behind her back. "Why must you always tease me so?" she asked in a lazy voice. _

_"I don't know what you mean, if there's anything you want you only have to ask," he replied off-handedly. _

_"Oh really?" she countered, "Anything?" _

_His face became guarded losing its teasing expression. His dark eyes lost the playful shine that had just been in them moments before. He placed the bowl of fruit on the night table and began to get out of bed. "Yes, anything, did you see a piece of jewelry you liked?" he asked his voice cool. _

_She was oblivious to the signs of his changing temper. "Not especially, you've already bought me more than I could wear in a month, even if I wore a different piece everyday." _

_His mood changed and became slightly lightener just as a cloud moving away from the sun will brighten a landscape. "What is it that you want?" _

_She sat up and lifted her hair away from her neck. "My neck and shoulders are so stiff, I suppose I must have fallen asleep in an awkward position last night, it would be heavenly if you'd rub them for me." _

_He smiled now, pleased that she wanted his touch instead of something he could purchase for her. _

_"You'll have to move forward and turn slightly." _

_After she complied, he lowered his hands to her shoulders and slowly squeezed his fingers searching for knotted muscles. She let out a low moan and he stopped. "Am I hurting you?" he asked. _

_"Quite the opposite," she replied softly. _

_He resumed massaging her shoulders and the slender column of her neck. He drifted lower to her shoulder blades. "I could do a better job if you'd only take off your negligee." _

_She blushed with embarrassment; Rhett's unabated continued interest in her body still was a cause of continued humiliation for her. He wanted to touch her all over her body. That wasn't where his interest ceased, there were other acts that while they felt wonderful she was sure they were acts that would cause her mother to roll in her grave at the thought of them being performed on her oldest daughter. _

_He turned her to face him; she ended up kneeling on the bed as he sat cross-legged. "Have I hurt you at all?' _

_"No, I told you if felt nice," she replied in confusion thinking he was referring to his massaging her shoulders. _

_"I mean during the times we've been intimate," he clarified. _

_She blushed furthering causing him to smile. 'Unflappable normally, Scarlett would shoulder her way into a crowd of builders and run her business, ignoring words that would have shaken another woman and indeed some men. But the thought of him touching her and causing a response from her body moved her to blush a color the same rosy red hue as her name, he thought. _

_"No, it hasn't hurt," she ventured reluctantly after giving thought to the activities that had occupied the last several nights. _

_"Have you enjoyed it?" _

_"Rhett, what a question?" she cried. _

_"I'm waiting for an answer, the things that I've done to you, don't they give you pleasure?" _

_She didn't want to answer but she knew the quickest way to terminate the conversation would be to tell the truth. _

_"Yes," she said in a voice more like a whisper than a declaration. _

_He reached out and cupped her face in his hands. "You can't imagine how many nights I would lie awake picturing what it would be like to make love to you, how you would feel and smell and taste. Would your skin really be as soft as I imagined it to be under your numerous layers of clothes?" There was a teasing note in his tone, and she dismissed his words as just talk. Talk meant to tease and disconcert her. _

_"Please, I don't want to discus this, it isn't fitting," she said interrupting him. _

_"Why isn't it fitting, is it wrong to confess that making love to you in reality is far more exhilarating than I could have dreamed? Is it wrong to tell you that your hair is like rough silk and I could spend days running my hands through it?" _

_"Rhett…" _

_He wouldn't let her interrupt; he placed his pinkies over her lips to stop the words bubbling up to her lips. "Hush, let me finish, I have wanted you for so long that I thought I would never have you, I refuse to be ashamed of anything that occurs between us physically. I won't pretend that being with you is a marital chore even though that is what we both learned at our parent's knee. Making love to you is not an obligation, it's a pleasure that transcends all I thought it would be." _

_Gently, he used his hands already cradling her face to push her head back, unsure of his intentions she complied leaving the front of her throat exposed. He came forward and began to rain kisses on it. She tried to bring her head up but he held it firmly keeping her throat exposed. He could feel her pulse just above her collarbone. It was rapid, fluttering like a thrush caught in a trap. _

_His released her head and when she tilted her head forward, he met her eye to eye. "If you ever want me to stop, tell me and I will." _

_Wordlessly, she nodded. Shyly she leaned forward and kissed him. He waited to see how far she would go and sensing the waiting in him she wrapped her arms around his neck. Gently he pulled her to him and kissed her deeply until they were both breathless. _


	11. Memories of Gerald

Scarlett opened her mouth and allowed him to place the chocolate on her tongue. His fingers just brushed her bottom lip and she shivered involuntarily. Closing her mouth, she savored the rich mellow taste of the brandied cherry with a look of sheer rapture on her face. 

"That good?" He asked amused at her expression.

Smiling brightly, she nodded. "I adore them. I can't believe you don't."

"They're just an odd combination of flavors. Sublime and tart and other flavors I can never quite put my finger on."

Peering up coquettishly through her thick languages she observed with a sweet smile, "Maybe they're just too complex for you to properly enjoy."

"I've never let complexity keep me from enjoying something if I want it badly enough," he replied, his voice was measured but his gaze had fallen onto her lips.

He wanted her; she knew the look in his eye. If only he would do something to let her know.

"Started on those books yet?"

The spell was instantly broken. Ross stood in the doorway, his lips twisted in a mocking smirk. "My darling sister in law, how well you look. Why, one would hardly know just by looking at you that Rhett nearly drowned you less than two weeks ago."

Crossing the room in a few long strides, Rhett stood before his brother. Though his expression did not betray him, Rhett was struggling to keep his anger at being interrupted in check, but it was a fragile hold. His brother had interrupted a moment between himself and Scarlett and now the moment was lost.

"Go downstairs Ross."

"Now, now is that any way to treat a well wisher? I even brought Scarlett a gift."

"Ross, you shouldn't have," said Scarlett, trying to keep her voice even. She refused to let Ross know how much he irritated her, it would give him some sort of imagined feeling of power over her and she refused to allow that.

Ross smiled faintly; it was not a kind smile. Scarlett suppressed a full body shiver. "I know I shouldn't have," he said, "that's why it's a gift."

The rustle of skirts from the hall betrayed Emily's presence. "Good evening Rhett," she said before moving past Ross to come into the room. "How are you Scarlett dear?"

"Fine, I'm feeling much better thank you," replied Scarlett, offering her cheek for a kiss which Emily delivered with a smile.

"You look wonderful, I'd hardly know you were ill by just looking at you," she declared.

Ross laughed nastily, "That's what I said but Rhett nearly took my head off."

"Did Ross tell you we had something for you," asked Emily trying to cut Ross off before Rhett became so aggravated that he said something that would anger Ross. She knew that Ross would never allow her to go and get Scarlett's children if he felt slighted, and that was something that happened with very little effort.

Scarlett took the role as peacemaker reluctantly, but she did it for Ella and Wade's sake. She wanted to see her children and if being nice to Ross would accomplish that then she would have to do whatever was required. "Yes, he mentioned something about that. You both shouldn't have. It's just nice to have everyone fussing so, it makes me feel very cherished."

She smiled at Ross in her best cloyingly sweet southern belle fashion. Almost against his will, a smile came to his lips in response to hers, not his usual nasty smirk or leering grin, but a real smile.

"Well it's just something to brighten your day," Ross said almost bashfully in the face of Scarlett's full frontal charm attack, "I don't even know if Rhett will let you have it."

Scarlett glanced at Rhett but his face mirrored her own look of confusion. "I'm not sure what you mean?"

Emily beamed before she went to the bedroom door and leaned out into the hall "Rosemary? Would you bring that in here please?"

In came Rosemary bearing a small foxhound pup with a cherry red bow tied around his neck.

"No, absolutely not, we don't have the room for a puppy," said Rhett firmly.

But he already knew it was too late. Scarlett reached out her arms and Emily took the puppy from Rosemary giving him to Scarlett. "He's a tri-color," remarked Scarlett softly before turning to Rhett. Her eyes were nearly glowing with delight. "Pa always had tri colored foxhounds at Tara. They were the only dogs he'd have for hunting." She fingered the puppy's silky ears fondly.

Gerald had loved the playful brown-eyed tri-colored foxhounds that had populated the kennels at Tara. Foxhounds were the only dogs at Tara. Gerald's hounds were the best bred in four counties. Indeed, many neighboring plantation owners came to Gerald begging the loan of one of his studs. Beatrice Tarleton had tried to convince her father to branch out in to other breeds but her father was adamant, he only wanted to breed the foxhounds.

Scarlett would have never actively sought out a dog. She had only bought Wade a St. Bernard puppy on her honeymoon because the boy had always been drawn to them in the Book of Breeds that had once belonged to Gerald. Hampton had been Wade's dog; she had never shown the least bit of interest in the creature. Wanting to own a dog of her own had never been something she'd considered, but now holding this warm puppy that could have blended in with ease among her father's own treasured pups she felt tears prick the back of her eyes. She would have never sought out a dog but this puppy had found her and she was determined to keep him.

"Oh, you're a handsome thing, aren't you," she told the puppy who had settled into Scarlett's arms with a yawn and a few flicks of his white tipped tail.

"Scarlett, I really don't think," begun Rhett before she reached out her hand to grasp his sleeve.

"Rhett, please. I'll have Penny walk him and Wade and Ella will just adore him, please say you'll let him stay."

"Penny?"

"Oh that's what Independence likes to be called, you haven't said yes?"

"He hasn't said no either," said Emily winking at Rhett.

"Why would you do this to me?" asked Rhett petulantly, but his eyes were smiling.

Emily smiled back. She could see how happy the puppy had made Scarlett and her happiness seemed to directly affect Rhett. He'd let the dog stay; she knew it. "I haven't done a thing to you, Sally Brewton's cousin Kenneth's dog Alex had a full litter. He decided this one was too much of a lay about to train so he wanted it adopted out."

"Sally! I knew it", declared Rhett grandly. "I should have seen her hand in this."

Rosemary scooted herself onto the bed next to Scarlett who obligingly put the puppy on the bed between them. Rosemary scratched his ears gently. "Did Sally's cousin have another puppy?" she asked her eyes sparkling mischievously.

"That's none of your concern, we only have room in this house for one puppy", said Rhett.

"Then he can stay?" asked Scarlett excitedly.

Rhett sighed deeply trying not to grin at her enthusiasm. She looked more herself than she had in a long time and if a puppy was what it would take for her to be so happy then he'd let her have one or one hundred, just to see that light in her green eyes. "There were doubts? What kind of monster do you take me for?"

Her face was so beautiful and filled with love for him that it was all he could do to not throw everyone else from the room. Once they were gone, he would demand she tell him again what she had told him before he'd left Atlanta. This time he'd give the answer that he knew she wanted in Atlanta. 'I love you,' he thought

"Rhett, you're wonderful. Thank you so much. Ross, Emily; you'll thank Sally won't you?" She smiled at them both. The emerald of her eyes was deep and flawless, her sooty lashes were the perfect frames for them. Ross couldn't help but appreciate just how attractive his sister in law was.

"Of course, we're just glad Rhett's letting the little lad stay," Ross smiled at his beautiful sister in law. "So, what's the pup's name anyway?"

Rhett leaned across her and stroked the dog just as Scarlett ran her hand down the dog's back. Their hands brushed one another and Scarlett looked up at Rhett. She smiled demurely and without hesitation, he smiled back. "His name is Toby," replied Scarlett.

"Why Toby?" Asked Rosemary.

"Toby was the grandsire of my father's kennel, he was a wedding gift from my grandfather Robillard to my father. Grandfather's own foxhounds were descended from those owned by the Archduchess Marie Louise of Austria, she was Napoleon Bonaparte's second wife."

Scarlett laughed at the little piece of history she had just spouted, more than likely everyone in this room knew far more about the Bonaparte's than she ever would but she wasn't embarrassed. That was how her father had always described the genealogy of his dogs. "I know that by heart, Pa recited the dog's bloodline constantly. Most of my father's tri-colors were descended from that hound, so this is my own Toby."

The puppy let out a long squeal. It took a moment to register on everyone in the room, but then Rhett threw back his head and laughed. "Was that a howl? God's mercy, what did I agree to?"

"Oh hush, he's just excited to know he has a name," replied Scarlett as she took the puppy back into her arms.


	12. The eyes of the beholder

"I heard everyone laughing. What's going on up here?" asked Miss Eleanor.

Ross and Emily each kissed her before she came to Scarlett's bedside. "Scarlett, whose puppy is that?" asked Miss Eleanor suspiciously.

Scarlett smiled spiritedly, "He's mine Rhett said I could keep him, isn't he wonderful?"

"My son or the puppy?"

Scarlett laughed "Both."

"And who gave you this puppy," asked Miss Eleanor with a great deal of mock sternness in her voice.

"Sally Brewton, although Ross and I delivered it," replied Emily dauntlessly, "He's a get well present."

"What is the rule about pets in this house?" asked Miss Eleanor.

Rhett, Rosemary, and Ross looked at one another before bursting into peals of laughter. This was one of those rare times when both Ross and Rhett could relax and laugh together as brothers. Each of them could remember their mother's mantra when it came to bringing home a stray cat or dog. "No pets without asking mother first," said Rosemary in between bursts of laughter.

Scarlett looked panicked for a brief second as she clutched the puppy tight. Without looking at Scarlett Rhett could feel that she had tensed at Miss Eleanor's comment about keeping pets. Despite the various faux pas Scarlett had committed throughout the season upsetting his mother was not one of them. He knew that Scarlett had tried to please his mother throughout the season. She had controlled her temper and actions in his mother's presence affecting an appearance of alacrity. Rhett knew that if his mother to asked Scarlett to give up the puppy his wife would in a show of docility toward his mother.

"But I'm sure on this occasion we can make an exception, couldn't we?" asked Rhett.

Miss Eleanor smiled looking fondly at her daughter in law. The color that had bloomed in her cheeks was from happy laughter and joy, not a fever. She patted the puppy absently. Of course Scarlett could keep the dog if it made her happy decided Miss Eleanor. "What's its name?"

"Toby."

"That's a fine name. So long as he's looked after Toby may stay." Miss Eleanor turned her attention to Ross, Emily, Rosemary, and Rhett. "Now dinner is ready so would you all go downstairs please before everything grows cold and Carlen has something to say to me."

Scarlett looked crestfallen at being left alone. She wished she could convince Rhett to carry her downstairs but he would never, not if he thought it might slow her recovery.

"Miss Eleanor if you don't think me rude I'll take a tray up here with Scarlett," said Emily with a sideways glance toward Ross to gauge his reaction.

"That's very sweet Emily, but you don't have to," said Scarlett trying to be polite. In fact she wanted to clap her hands with glee at the thought of company, even if it was Emily instead of Miss Eleanor or even better Rhett. She did like Ross's wife, what she knew of her seemed kind.

Emily spoke quickly before Ross seized onto Scarlett's words. "Of course I don't have to but I would like to. It will give you a chance to tell me about your children so I'll know all about them when I meet them on Friday."

Miss Eleanor smiled "I'm so pleased that your dear children are coming to stay Scarlett. What a joy it will be to have children in the house again. It's been so long since Rosemary was small enough to spoil and I so enjoyed having Bonnie here when…" Miss Eleanor trailed off at the melancholy looks on both Rhett and Scarlett's faces. She noticed neither of them would look at the other and it saddened her deeply that her son and his wife almost certainly never discussed their memories of their daughter who died so young.

"You won't have to wait long Miss Eleanor, they'll be here Saturday," asked Rosemary, trying to ease the tension in the room.

"Yes," said Scarlett brightening, "Oh Rosemary, You'll love Wade, he loves to read and draw, and Ella…well she's so sweet and loves dress up and tea parties, although," Scarlett lowered her voice conspiratorially, "She'll only eat cakes with pink frosting."

Emily settled in the chair next to Scarlett's bed. "I'm sure they're wonderful children."

"They are both very special," said Rhett fondly.

"So says the proud papa," commented Ross neutrally.

Sensing an oncoming argument between her sons Miss Eleanor herded Rosemary, Ross and Rhett from Scarlett's room in the direction of dinner. Emily settled herself in the chair and bent forward to kick off her low lace up boots. Scarlett smiled. Maybe Emily wasn't completely the prim and correct Charleston lady she appeared to be. No lady would just remove her shoes in front of another woman outside of during a ball in the ladies attiring rooms.

"My feet are so swollen from walking, Sally made me tramp all the way out to her cousin's place with her," said Emily rolling her eyes. "She's one of the only women of my acquaintance who owns a trap these days but she walks nearly everywhere unless Matthew argues her into taking the trap".

"At least now I'm safe from Sally's gallivanting, until I'm on my feet again," said Scarlett trying to make conversation.

"Do you love Rhett?"

Scarlett started at that question. Now Emily who had seemed so kind was going to attack her. Fine if that was the way it was going to be at least better to cast off false faces now before she had become overly fond of Emily. "He's my husband isn't he?"

"How about a more straightforward answer?" countered Emily.

She exploded her emotions getting the better of her. "Yes, of course I do. What woman wouldn't love Rhett? He's handsome, and charming, and when he says my name I feel as though we're the only people on the face of the earth. I love Rhett so much I feel sometimes I was meant to love him since the moment I first met him." Emily's eyes were kind but also penetrating, Scarlett found herself saying more than she meant to, "I just realized it too late."

Emily took Scarlett's warm hand in her own cool slightly roughened hand. "For God sake fight for him, he wanted to cut you out of his life, but now while your are ill and he's letting his guard down there is a chance, just one, that you might be able to reach out to him and keep him."

"He doesn't love me Emily, he's said he doesn't."

"What a man says and what he feels are often to different things, surely you know that."

"Has he told you that he's still in love with me?" asked Scarlett absently petting Toby's soft silky ears.

"Not in so many words, but I've know Rhett a long time my dear and I can tell that he loves you just by watching him when he's in the same room as you. That first afternoon when he came back from Boston to find you here in Charleston he was torn. I could see it, he wanted to strangle you or ravage you, either way he wanted to put his hands on you," said Emily choosing to be frank and to the point.

"Don't be so sure, he wanted to strangle me, he thought that when he left me in Atlanta we were done once and for all."

"You and Rhett aren't going to be 'once and for all' till one of you is in the grave. So do you have a plan to get him back?"

"I may," said Scarlett evasively.

Emily laughed not in the least bit slighted by Scarlett's lack of an answer. "What ever you do be easy on him, we are none of us as young as we use to be."

Scarlett only smiled enigmatically. "Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies."

"I do want to ask you a question but it's an easy one. Tell me all about your children, you've mentioned them in passing but tell me everything, I am so excited that they're coming. I warn you though I am going to exert my rights as their Aunt. In other words I am going to spoil them both terribly and there isn't a thing you can do to stop me."

Scarlett liked Emily, she suspected that if Emily wanted somebody to like her it was nearly impossible to resist. It would be nice for the children to have dotting adults in their lives again. "Wade, he is my oldest. His father Charles Hamilton was my first husband. He died a month and a half after we were married."

"So Wade never knew his father?"

"Neither of my children have ever really known any other father besides Rhett. Wade's as I said died before he was born and Ella was only a few months old when Frank was killed."

"How did Ella's father die?"

The guilt of Frank's death was still raw even after so many years. "I don't like to talk about it."

Emily was more like Melanie than Rhett thought. She could sense that her sister-in-law wasn't really the hard-bitten character she pretended to be. Right now this girl was holding everything in her life together through an effort of will and Emily would be damned if it was her that poked chinks in that armor of self-control.

"Is Ella pretty?" asked Emily smoothly starting a new conversation.

Scarlett mused to herself for a moment or two, was Ella pretty? No, not really, but she was something better than pretty. Ella hadn't been a pretty baby but in the last few years her face had changed revealing the exquisite young woman that Scarlett knew her daughter would one day become.

"Vivid," she blurted out, "That's the word for Ella, is she pretty, no not in what might be considered the normal measure for beauty but she's something better. Her lips are so pretty, like a rosebud one moment and the next she has this frown that's so not sad that you simply end up laughing and giving in. She has curly hair that always knots no matter how many times you comb it out."

"Are her eyes green like yours?"

Emily's questions were prompting Scarlett to examine her children and their physical traits.

"More a sort of hazel green than brown. I had hoped she'd have her father's eyes. Frank's eyes were a real nice shade of blue, but in any case they look very much like my mother's eyes."

At this spoken realization Scarlett paused, that was absolutely true. Ella did have Ellen's eyes, why had she never noticed that till just now? Because she had never bothered to see either of her children as anything more than burdens came the answer. Her daughter had Ellen's eyes and all these years had passed and she had never noticed.

"My daughter has my mother's eyes," whispered Scarlett again as though confirming it for herself.

Emily smiled faintly thinking of how blessed she'd have felt to share her life with a little girl that had her mother Claire's eyes. To look into her mother's eyes now after so long would be nothing short of a miracle. "That must be wonderful."

"More than you could ever know," said Scarlett with real feeling. She couldn't wait to see Ella and Wade and really look at them. She wanted to see if there were other similarities to the Robiliard and O'Hara's that had slipped her notice.

They passed a pleasant hour or so chatting about inconsequential topics like fashion and where they might take the children when Scarlett was up and about again. Finally Ross came to fetch his wife. With only a glance at Emily and a few words asking her to prepare herself to go, Ross turned his attention to Scarlett.

"How is Toby?" asked Ross politely.

Scarlett smiled sweetly; she didn't want to make Ross angry. Not when Emily would be leaving for Tara in the morning. "He hasn't given so much as a bark, thank you again, the both of you. He's wonderful."

"I'm glad, Mrs. Butler wait downstairs, I'll be down directly."

Emily looked at Ross but didn't reproach him aloud for staying in Scarlett's room without a chaperone; instead she hurried downstairs to seek out Rhett.


	13. Sides

Rhett was smoking a cheroot on the side sun porch. He was lost in thought about Scarlett and their conversation before his brother had interrupted them.

_He shouldn't have baited her about that damned piece of candy. Of course he remembered those sickly sweet cherries were her favorites. If he had just refused her offer of the first piece, but she had been so unlike the hard woman he'd left in Atlanta and more like the girl who had haunted his waking and sleeping mind for years._

"I've never let complexity keep me from enjoying something if I want it badly enough." He wanted her still and worse luck Scarlett had finally learned to read his moods and his expressions. She knew he wanted her. He had been so used to the fact that she never paid attention to how he felt that he'd become sloppy at disguising his true thoughts and feelings around her.

"Rhett?"

He turned back from the view and smiled at his sister in law. "How was dinner?"

She immediately began to speak her voice slipping out of it's usual composed tones. "Rhett, go upstairs, now. Ross just told me to leave him alone with Scarlett. I didn't want to argue with him since I'm leaving tomor…"

He didn't allow her to finish, instead he hurried up the stairs and for the second time in two days he stationed himself outside Scarlett's bedroom door, ready to rush to her aid. He would be ready to defend her should she need him but he also wanted to know what precisely his brother wanted with Scarlett.

Just as Rhett had reached Scarlett's door Ross came to the end of his store of polite small talk about Scarlett's health and Toby. He smiled again and leaned on the dresser.

"I'm surprised that Rhett has decided to ask you to review the books for our mines."

Scarlett stiffened. It wasn't his tone of voice that implied danger, but rather something in his eye caught her attention like the movement of a snake in the wheat catches the attention of the field mouse. Keeping her voice light she answered with as much coquetry and charm as she could muster.

"It's just to pass the time till Doctor Cross dismisses me from the confines of bed rest. I won't be reviewing them at all, I'm just transferring the information from several books into one," she almost said master book but feeling that implied a familiarity with the world of numbers she said," great big book." Now to sound as vapid as possible, "I do have lovely handwriting, the nuns in my ladies academy always complemented me on it."

"Rhett spoke earlier of your several enterprises in Atlanta, he made you out to be quite the business woman."

She laughed and though that laughter was slightly shrill Ross didn't notice. "Oh Rhett was just being flippant. You know how he can be?"

"No, I don't why don't you enlighten me to just how my brother 'can be.'"

Oh how she chaffed at having to pretend to be a silly witless creature for Ross's benefit but he scared her in a way that she couldn't quite describe. She had to pretend that the mills did not come from the sweat of her brow and the frantic grasping of her small hands.

"I inherited the store and the mills from my late husband, a family friend oversees the mills and the other building I rent. The business run there isn't mine, I only own the building."

Ross laughed harshly. "My brother had better watch his back around you eh, sounds as though you've been a lucky young lady when it comes to profitable widowhood."

When Scarlett said nothing further he continued on to the subject he had truly wished to brooch. He smiled smugly seeking to get a rise out of this woman who he found very attractive, even as an invalid. "I hear you'll be leaving us soon, that's a real shame."

Though he was right, Scarlett did not intend to confide in someone who quite honestly made her skin crawl, instead she was noncommittal in her reply. "Well I don't know how soon as Doctor Cross thinks it will be some time before I'm fully recovered."

"Really and how soon does he think that might be?" asked Ross probing further for details of exactly how long his brother's wife with her shrew business oriented mind would have access to the books from the mines.

"I couldn't say."

Ross's eyes narrowed "Couldn't say, a month, two months, surely you must have an idea of when…"

Rhett decided that this had gone on long enough; it was time to send his brother on his way. He strode confidently into the room. Ross watched his brother warily wondering how much his brother had heard.

"Scarlett, I'm sure that Toby needs to visit the out of doors before he beds down for the night."

She looked at him, gratitude clear in her eyes. "I'm sure he does. Ross, he's so comfortable with you, would you mind taking him down and asking Carlen where Penny is? She told me she would see to him while I'm convalescing."

Clearly Ross was displeased but forcing a smile he did as he was asked. "Good night Scarlett, pleasant dreams. Rhett, I'll see you soon I expect." Ross took the dog from Scarlett and left the room without a backward glance.

Scarlett exhaled a breath she hadn't even been aware she had been holding. Ross was finally gone and she knew that something about the conversation had eluded her. He had been questioning her to an end and she hadn't any idea what that end was. Certainly not concern for Rhett. It only took a moment in the same room with the Butler brothers to deduce there was a great deal of tension and very little brotherly feeling between them.

"Are you alright?" asked Rhett concern evident in his voice.

"I find it utterly depressing that lately so many of our conversations have to start with the status of my well being?" She said flippantly attempting to make light of her feelings of disconcertion at Ross's attempts to draw a confidence from her.

He wouldn't let her retreat into a verbal sparing match. He wanted to know if she was truly all right. "I'm sorry, answer my question, did Ross do or say anything to make you uncomfortable?"

"It's strange Rhett, he seemed as though he was looking for the answer to a question he didn't ask aloud." A frown and a look of concentration settled on her pale face. "He certainly doesn't like the idea of me going over the books to the mines." She looked up at him, her jade eyes searching his for the truth,"Is your brother stealing from you?"

He sat in the chair next to her bed and thought for a long time before speaking. Could that really be it, was his brother embezzling from his business. His brother had deteriorated into a crass unlikable person, but a thief, that seemed absurd.

"I suppose Ross might, but I don't know that you'd find that just by the information in the ledgers, you'd have to know what the reported profits were and the bills of sale. The ledgers would only be a piece of the puzzle if my brother was stealing from me."

"I don't really care for your brother Rhett. There's something about him that," she shuddered involuntarily but did not attempt to put words to her thoughts about Ross.

"That chills you to the bone", Rhett finished.

"That isn't what I said."

"It's what you were thinking, he wasn't always like this. Before the war, years ago he was bright, amusing, always a kind word even if he didn't mean it."

"How old was he when you left home?"

Rhett did the math quickly "About thirteen or fourteen I suppose."

"Rhett, you are describing how he was nearly twenty five years ago."

She placed her hand on the back of her neck and squeezed gently, trying to relax her cramped neck muscles. The entire time Ross had been in her room she had kept her carriage as erect as she could though now she had the devil to pay for it. Her neck was stiff and her hips throbbed in a dull heated agony. It was this pain that made her tell Rhett what she honestly felt about his brother.

"I don't trust him a bit. He isn't kind to Emily, he seems to resent you, and I suspect he doesn't think very much of me."

The comments about Scarlett that his brother had made the other day echoed in his mind. He had called Scarlett a whore and then suggested that the only business a woman like Scarlett would run was a whorehouse. If anyone else had dared insinuate such a thing Rhett would have killed that man with his bare hands, but because it was Ross he swallowed his rage and simply warned his brother that comments about Scarlett were unacceptable.

"I suspect my brother thinks about you more than he'd like to admit. The fact that you haven't so much as batted those beautiful eyes of yours in his direction is most likely one of the main things he holds against you. My brother always wants whatever another man has."

"Does another man have me?"

He knew she was fishing for an answer and he was torn on whether or not to tell her that he had a change of heart. He didn't want to give her false hope; after all there was a great deal of pain between them to overcome. When she recovered they could talk. There was plenty of time for them; after all she wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

"Till death or divorce do us part," he answered; only after he spoke did he realize how curt he must have sounded.

Why did he keep tempting her only to verbally shove her away? And he had the nerve to once tell her that SHE didn't know what she wanted. It was clear to her that he was the one who couldn't come to terms with his feelings.

When he didn't bother to apologize she summoned up from her well of strength a small smirk. He wanted to pretend he didn't want her, fine. "Soon enough, I know you must be counting the days till you're a free man once more," she replied brusquely

"Scarlett, that wasn't how I intended…" He was about to explain when he heard someone knock gently on the partially closed door.

Scarlett ignored him and called "Come in."

"Miss Scarlett, is the dog going to sleep in your room? My aunt has a basket with a pillow that she said I could bring up if you'd like?" asked Penny from the doorway.

"That would be fine," replied Rhett, "Would you take the dog and bring up the basket. Close the door behind you."

"Yes sir Mister Rhett." Penny shut the door.

Rather than continue to argue with Rhett Scarlett chose to make small talk to pass the time until Penny returned. "How do you know that I want Toby in here?"

"The same way I know that if Penny didn't have that basket you'd be trying to convince me to let him sleep on your bed."

Scarlett stuck out her tongue petulantly but her heart wasn't in it. "I don't know that I'd be so fond of Toby if he weren't a fox hound. My pa loved them. I did too. It's funny that Sally would send me one."

"Did you ever mention foxhounds to Sally even briefly in passing, she files details like that away until just the right occasion presents itself."

"I might have. I did tell Sally about Tara and of course about pa."

"Ah Sally. " He fell silent looking for something to say, trivial conversation anything besides the topic they should be discussing. Their marriage and it's future or lack there of.

However it was Scarlett who raised a topic first. She spoke softly but her voice held no hesitation. It was straight to the heart of the matter at hand. "I don't mean to steer us back to an unpleasant topic but you realize that we'll have to tell Wade and Ella that we've decided to separate. I don't know if they'll understand what a divorce is but you and I will have to try and explain in a way they can understand."

She had him in a trap and whether she knew it or not he did. Tell Ella and Wade that he was leaving their mother? The anguish on their faces would be like a knife plunged in the heart. And was he still divorcing Scarlett? His opinion on that changed literally by the minute. Setting her adrift in the world with their children and damn it they were his children. He was the only father Ella had ever really known and Wade was as much his son as he was Charles'. He needed time, time to think, to decide what was best for them all. He would have to stall her that was all there was to it. After all why needlessly upset Wade and Ella if they didn't have to?

"We aren't going to tell them the second they arrive, there has been too much upheaval the last two years. Let's let them settle in first."

Scarlett lifted her chin ready to do battle if that was what it was to come to. Great balls of fire, they were her children. She had borne them and raised them. She knew what was best for them and she fully intended to give Rhett a piece of her mind and she only hoped that he'd choke on it.

"I don't want to give them a false sense of security if there isn't any security to be had. You've told me how you feel, I made a bargain with you and I intend to honor it."

Rhett rose from the bedside chair and strode to the window. He looked out across the yard and with his back to her he spoke "I am not going to tell our children that I'm divorcing their mother while she's ill."

How dare he! Scarlett glared at his broad back. All this time she had been deluding herself. He didn't want her, he felt sorry for her. If there was one thing her Irish pride couldn't accept it was pity. That was worse than him hating her. Hate at least was a passionate emotion but pity was just that, pity.

"I won't be your good deed in a wicked world," she said hotly.

He turned, startled by the venom in her voice. "I have a responsibility to you and our children, I intend to honor it.

There was a knock on the door but they were both so fixated on their argument that neither heard it.

Scarlett's voice rose. She was beyond caring if anyone heard her. She wanted Rhett to know exactly how she felt when he abandoned her in that grim tomb of a house in Atlanta. He had left her broken and he hadn't cared. He didn't even tell Ella and Wade goodbye, no he left her to deal with the repercussions of his flight. Just as it was when he destroyed what little good people still thought of her when he was building his reputation up after Bonnie was born. He was selfish and if she did nothing else in the time they had left with one another she would tell him exactly how she felt.

"You ended that responsibility when you abandoned me. When you left me, you also left Wade and Ella, didn't that ever occur to you when you left to seek out grace and whatever it is you're searching for?"

The pain that she had wanted to keep inside herself escaped to permeate her words, giving them a poignancy that affected him deeply, making him ache for her. He wanted to interrupt her tirade and present his own side but he felt that she had a right to tell him how she felt and maybe he deserved to know, he had tried to convince himself that she'd throw herself into Ashley Wilkes' arms despite her protestations of love and devotion the night he'd left her. Convince himself because he didn't readily believe that she would go to Ashley as anything except the friend that Melly had asked her to be on her deathbed.

"You're the only father that Ella's ever known and Wade idolizes you. It's going to break their hearts. They lost Bonnie and then Melanie and now you. I refuse to pretend everything is alright and then pull the carpet out from under their feet."

Her face was that of a wax doll, devoid of emotion as she tried to rein in her anger. Something Rhett had said about her abilities as a mother came to her and she hurled it at him.

"I may not be the mother a cat is, but I've never lied to my children and I won't start now."

"I never abandoned Wade and Ella…"

But she wouldn't let him speak; if he did he'd twist things till everything was her fault and while she was willing to shoulder a great deal of the blame in regards to the demise of their marriage she knew that it wasn't all hers to take on.

"What you do to me affects them every bit as much. For someone who has always lorded over me how much common sense he posses, you are being incredibly foolish now."

He raked his hand through his hair and asked he pointedly "Do you intend on greeting them with I've missed you and Rhett hates us?"

She was stung and bristled defensively. "Don't be ridiculous. I…"

The knocks on the door became louder

"Go away," Rhett shouted

Scarlett glared at him before shouting, "Come in."

Rosemary opened the door and looked at them both incredulously. They had been getting along so well earlier and now once again they were bickering. Although, she thought, reluctantly recalling bits of their argument and flinching at the anger and pain behind those sentiments bickering was a very polite euphemism for what they had been doing.

Penny followed Rosemary into the room as Rosemary brought Toby over to Scarlett's bed.

"Where would you like Penny to put the basket", asked Rosemary not acknowledging the argument she had just interrupted.

"Next to the bed, thank you Penny."

"Yes'm."

Rosemary looked at Scarlett's angry face. It was clear her sister in law was furious at Rhett and having heard much of their conversation she was shockingly enough inclined to agree with Scarlett. When Rhett had decided to leave Scarlett he had effectively left his stepchildren behind. Rosemary herself felt awful. When her brother had told her the details of his marriage he had mentioned how wonderful Wade and Ella were and she had never thought of them as having a stake in whether or not their stepfather stayed with their mother. They loved Rhett and in counseling him to leave Scarlett she had inadvertently counseled him to leave those children as well.

"Scarlett, I bought the book of poems, would you like me to read them?" asked Rosemary.

Rhett raised one eyebrow sardonically. His sister had barely looked at him since she'd entered the room. "I'm dismissed? E tu Rosemary."

"Rhett", Rosemary smiled at her brother, her expression was gentle without reproach but it was also clear, for whatever came next it would be Scarlett's hand Rosemary would hold, not his. Her defection stung but in a way he was grateful that Scarlett would have someone to lean on if she chose to. She wouldn't of course but he knew she liked to have options just in case.

Finally he smiled back at his sister and bowed gracefully. "Ladies, good evening" he scratched Toby on the head.

He didn't wait for a good night from either of them but went into his room closing the adjoining door behind him.


	14. In the Fall

**Borrowed some things from MM's GWTW for this chapter, but unless you get the book out it isn't as much as you'd initially think (don't get me wrong, it was a good deal) but I believe I blended her words and mine into a fairly seamless cloth.**

Scarlett was pleased to see that Rosemary was still wearing her hair back from her face but flowing down her back just as Scarlett had styled it earlier. The jasmine oil that she had dabbed on Rosemary's wrists still gently scented the air around her sister in law.

"Why are you smiling like that?" asked Rosemary curiously.

"Because you look lovely," replied Scarlett.

Rosemary gave her a bright smile. "Mother thought my hair looked very becoming."

"It does make you look more carefree."

Rosemary blushed self-consciously. She knew she looked wonderful, the mirror in the hall had confirmed that only minutes ago. She looked fresh, more like a young woman and less like a stern matron. Perhaps someone else would notice her transformation, clearly there was quite a bit she could learn from Scarlett, like for instance that thing she did with her eyelashes. It was an odd fluttery sort of thing but men seemed to be drawn by it.

She spread her skirts so that she wouldn't crumple them by sitting on the bunched up fabric and settled into the chair next to the bed. "Trust me, you'll like these poems, Rhett brought me the book back from London months ago. They are very different from anything else I've ever read."

"I'm not sure, poetry isn't really my cup of tea so to speak," said Scarlett hesitantly.

"And being groomed like a mare wasn't on my to do list today but I submitted. Now listen maybe you'll enjoy one." Rosemary skimmed several pages thoughtfully till she found one that she felt was worthy of being shared.

"PALE amber sunlight falls across  
The reddening October trees,  
That hardly sway before a breeze  
As soft as summer: summer's loss  
Seems little, dear! on days like these.

Let misty autumn be our part!  
The twilight of the year is sweet:  
Where shadow and the darkness meet:  
Our love, a twilight of the heart  
Eludes a little time's deceit.

Are we not better and at home  
In dreamful Autumn, we who deem  
No harvest joy is worth a dream?  
A little while and night shall come,  
A little while, then, let us dream.

Beyond the pearled horizons lie  
Winter and night: awaiting these  
We garner this poor hour of ease,  
Until love turn from us and die  
Beneath the drear November trees."

Rosemary closed the book keeping her thumb in the book to save the page.

"I love his prose but I have to say I don't completely understand it. I mean I understand the actual lines but I suppose I've never been in love in the fall and I suppose that's why the idea of it is so foreign to me. What did you think Scarlett?"

She didn't hear Rosemary; she was a million miles away and nearly 7 years in the past when Rhett would meet her nearly everyday accidentally in the woods that were on the edge of Atlanta. In the heart of the woods were her lumber mills, she had been very pregnant then 5 months or so and driving the buggy tired her out more than she would have ever admitted, if she had admitted just how tired it made her, Frank would have locked her in their room and she would have lost everything.

_She was sure that he frequently threw business her way, for he knew all the rich Yankees and Carpetbaggers intimately, but he always denied being helpful. She knew him for what he was and she never trusted him, but her spirits always rose with pleasure at the sight of him riding around the curve of a shady road on his big black horse. What had the horse's name been, had she ever bothered to ask him? Of course not because she hadn't cared about him she had only admitted that he made her feel safe and protected at a time in her life when she need the security of a man desperately. _

_When he climbed into the buggy and took the reins from her and threw her some_

_impertinent remark, she felt young and gay and attractive again, for all her worries and her increasing bulk. She could talk to him about almost everything, with no care for concealing her motives or her real opinions and she never ran out of things to say as she did with Frank--or even with Ashley. _

Good God what had she ever really had to say to Ashley, only longing looks and convoluted discussions of honor and being honorable in the face of a world that was nothing like the one that had reared them. What use was that world she thought, it died and left most of the people in it without the gumption or iron to pull themselves up.

Grandma Fountaine and her analogy about wheat and buckwheat had been right, it had taken her years but she finally understood what the old woman had meant, some people break and others bend and then rise back up.

_What had Rhett said about her and the reason why so much of the old guard disliked and disapproved of her? Yes, it was that she liked to work and obviously wasn't going to let any man tend to her business for her. He had told her no one could feel sorry for her and Atlanta and people in general liked nothing better than feeling sorry for people. It built them up by comparison._

_His voice was in her ear as though he were speaking in the present and not on a long past autumn day. "Did you ever hear the Oriental proverb: The dogs bark but the caravan passes on? Let them bark, Scarlett. I fear nothing will_

_stop your caravan."_

_But now she had come to a bone jarring halt, unable to stand or walk, dependent on a man who felt sorry for her but no longer loved her. He was standing by her out of a misplaced sense of personal responsibility and that grated. She had never wanted anyone to feel sorry for her and to have that unpleasant emotion from Rhett was depressing._

She shook off unpleasant truths as she had shook them off before and would always continue to. It was pleasant for a change to look back, before Bonnie died and her marriage had ended. Before she and Rhett had exchanged words that could never be taken back. They had talked about being poor and well received or rich and shut out from all that was considered decent in the south. She had asked him if thought she had made the right choices. She could still remember so much of their conversation almost verbatim.

_"If it's money you want most," he said lighting a cigar._

_"Yes, I want money more than anything else in the world." She had been a fool that Scarlett, what good was money without people you love to spend it on?_

_He smiled at her answer, given without a moment's hesitation. "Then you've made the only choice. But there's a penalty attached, as there is to most things you want. It's loneliness."_

_"I think--I think," she began hesitantly, "that I've always been lonely where women were concerned. It isn't just my working that makes Atlanta ladies dislike me. They just don't like me anyway. No woman ever really liked me, except Mother. Even my sisters were never overly fond of me.. I don't know why, but even before the war, even before I married Charlie, ladies didn't seem to approve of anything I did--"_

_"You forget Mrs. Wilkes," said Rhett and his eyes gleamed maliciously. "She has always approved of you up to the hilt. I daresay she'd approve of anything you did, short of murder."_

_She smiled briefly to herself at that memory. She remembered thinking grimly: 'She's even approved of murder.' _

Melanie who had thought anything Scarlett did was right no matter why she did it. To see Melanie she would have given ten years of her own life, she would live poor and impoverished and do it with real grace for a chance to see Melanie and tell her everything about how she had felt for Ashley. She would have liked to give Melanie the chance to spit in her eye or forgive her. Oh Melly, I miss you so. Melly would have sorted out the mess between herself and Rhett in a trice.

Then she had made that stupid comment about them having grandchildren and Rhett had twisted it, embarrassing her.

_It was more than his joking words that shamed her, for she was then aware of her thickening body. They had never even hinted at her condition and she had always kept the lap robe high under her armpits when with him, even on warm days. Scarlett shook her head, she had comforted herself in the ridiculous feminine manner with the belief that she did not show at all when thus covered. She had been sick with quick rage at her own condition and shame that he should know. _

Of course he would have known, Rhett's sharp eyes never missed a thing and something as glaring as her pregnant body? Now that she knew why he had always met her she couldn't believe she had once been so naïve as to think he had been unaware.

_But she had been angry that he dared to allude to the fact that she was with child. She ordered him out of the buggy but Rhett being Rhett he refused._

_"I'll do nothing of the kind," he returned calmly. "It'll be dark before you get home and there's a new colony of darkies living in tents and shanties near the next spring, mean so I've been told, and I see no reason why you should give the impulsive Ku Klux a cause for putting on their nightshirts and riding abroad this evening."_

In reflection the fact that he said that seem to almost foreshadow what happened to Frank, if she had only listened to Rhett, Frank wouldn't have died. But then Bonnie would have never been born at least she was sure that herself and Frank could have never produced a child like Bonnie, so that made Frank's death sad but worth the guilt she carried at being the cause of it.

_The afternoon sun, slanting low through the falling leaves spun sickeningly for a few moments in a swirl of gold and red. When the spell had passed, she had put her head in her hands and cried from sheer mortification. She felt that she could never look him in the face again. She had cried, expecting some coarse and jocular remark from him, which she would never be able to forget. But he had only been kind and…loving. _

_He had loved her even then. Frank would have been mortified and stiff. He would never have consoled her, but Rhett had. He had said everything she had needed to hear. And all because he loved her. There had been something else another clue to that love, but what was it. She thought and finally it came to her. She should have realized that he loved her._

_"Don't be a fool," he had said quietly. "And you are a fool, if you are crying for shame. Come, Scarlett, don't be a child. Surely you must know that, not being blind, I knew you were pregnant. You are a child if you thought I didn't know, for all your smothering yourself under that hot lap robe. Of course, I knew. Why else do you think I've been--"_

Scarlett sick in bed in Charleston put her face in her hands and cried. Cried at her stupidity and the loss that stemmed from it. If only's screamed in her mind and caught the breath in her chest. If only she had seen that he was willing to protect her even when she had another man's child in her body. If only he had said he loved her when he still did, maybe she would have thrown herself at that love. If only she had told him when she had realized that she loved him when he had returned with Bonnie from Charleston. She had confused her fondness for one man with love for another and everything in their lives fell apart.


	15. Selfpreservation

Rosemary had waited for Scarlett to comment on the poem, but she didn't speak. She didn't even make a sarcastic comment about the piece Rosemary had just read. She only sat still leaning back on the piled pillows behind her back. Once or twice Scarlett smiled softly as though recalling something wonderful but then her face changed and became so profoundly sad that Rosemary sucked in her breath.

Before Rosemary could ask if she was feeling well Scarlett leaned forward and began to sob into her cupped hands.

"Scarlett, Scarlett what is it do you want Rhett?"

Rosemary then did something she hated to do, she panicked. One minute her sister in law had been making faces at the thought of discussing poetry and then after she had been eerily silent. Now she was sobbing brokenly into her hands and she wouldn't so much as look up.

"Rhett," cried Rosemary as loud as she could, "Rhett hurry."

He was through the door before she even said hurry. Scarlett was still crying oblivious to the naked fear on Rosemary's face.

Rhett took her by the upper arms and tried to force her to look at him. He had never seen her this way before. She wasn't hysterical but she wouldn't look at him. Scarlett was the strongest woman he'd ever known and to see her this way frightened him. She sounded so lost as though all the pains and trials of the last ten years had finally taken their emotional toll on her.

"Scarlett? What is it, are you in any pain, Scarlett," he said his voice was urgent as he tried to wring an answer from her.

At his voice she tensed and tried to pull herself under control. It was bad enough to have him touching her but now to hear the concern in his voice, concern that she didn't deserve from a man who she had repeatedly wronged. She wouldn't look at him, how could she? She was too ashamed at what she had done to him. He had only loved her and wanted her love in return and she had tormented him.

Created a hell for him was something Rhett had once told her in reference to what her love was doing to Ashley. Now she was left to wonder if being in love with her but never having it requited till it was too late had been a hell for Rhett.

Her continued silence finally moved Rhett to a decision. "Rosemary, get Doctor Cross now."

"No," Scarlett shouted though it irritated her throat and caused her to cough. "I don't want him here, I'm just tired."

She wheezed a little trying to ignore the state of agony her lungs were in. Her damn cold was getting worse but she didn't want Doctor Cross poking and prodding her. Despite the fact she could tell he tried to be a little less like his usual gruff self when he treated her there was just something…off.

Rhett stood up releasing Scarlett's fore arms. What could his sister have said to bring Scarlett to such a state? "Rosemary, would you leave us alone please."

To look at Scarlett you would never believe she had been crying as though her heart was broken only minutes before, thought Rosemary. Her eyes were red and her face was very pale but she had already brought herself under control. Scarlett amazed Rosemary, she really did.

Rosemary noticed her brother was watching her with a speculative eye, Surely he couldn't think that she had said something to upset Scarlett? She felt the need to explain what had led up to Scarlett's strange behavior.

"Rhett we were only reading poetry and then she was so still I thought she'd fallen asleep, or I would have if her eyes had been closed. Then out of nowhere she started to cry."

Rosemary's eyes fell on the book that she had carelessly tossed on the bed when she had jumped up to summon her brother. "It might have been what I read."

Relieved that Scarlett wasn't as ill as she had been the night before left Rhett relieved enough to be able to quip, "I don't think you can flatter yourself there Rosemary, I doubt it was your poetry selection that moved Scarlett to tears."

"How do you know Rhett?" Scarlett asked him softly.

"Was it?" he asked raising his eyebrow sardonically.

Her voice husky from tears she answered softly. "Yes, I suppose it was. The poem made me think of times that I had forgotten, and things that I never realized. I didn't mean to scare you Rosemary, you either Rhett," she added begrudgingly.

"That must have been quite a piece of poetry to move the hard hearted Scarlett O'Hara to tears. Who is the poet?"

"Ernest Dowson, his collection of poems was one of the books you bought for me last fall, if I remember correctly I believe it was one of the ones you found in London."

He struggled to remember, he had bought his sister dozens of volumes while abroad. He was eager to take a closer look at the slim blue leather volume. "May I see the book, I just paged through it briefly in London when I bought it. If the poems in it are that good I'll make a point of reading it."

Rosemary picked the book up off of Scarlett's bed and handed it to him. "Scarlett, are you turning in? We'll read tomorrow if you still want to."

Scarlett struggled to smile sweetly at her sister in law. Rosemary could be quite agreeable when she wasn't being a Charleston snob. "I do, really I do, I'm just tired and that makes me more sensitive than I should be. I'm sorry for frightening you."

Rosemary gave Scarlett a quick peck on the check before kissing her brother. "I'll look for something more cheerful for tomorrow."

She left them together in Scarlett's room. Rhett sat in Rosemary's recently vacated seat. He ideally paged through the book of poetry. "Some of these are quite good," he commented amiably.

"The one Rosemary read was very good, it made me think of things that I hadn't thought of in years."

He only nodded as he read one of them poems.

"Are you reading the one about autumn?" she asked wondering if he would come to the root of what had made her cry.

"No, but this one is interesting. I find his poetry to be mimetic." he glanced up at Scarlett and saw that she was unsure of the words definition so he elaborated.

"That means that it illustrates some kind of experience that he thinks the reader may have previously experienced." Rhett said before beginning to read aloud. "Let me read this one to you, it's called To His Mistress

THERE comes an end to summer,  
To spring showers and hoar rime;  
His mumming to each mummer  
Has somewhere ended in time,

And since life ends and laughter,  
And leaves fall and tears dry,  
Who shall call love immortal,  
When all that is must die?

Nay, sweet, let's leave unspoken  
The vows the fates gainsay,  
For all vows made are broken,  
We love but while we may.

Let's kiss when kissing pleases,

And part when kisses pall;  
Perchance, this time to-morrow,  
We shall not love at all.

You ask my love completest,  
As strong next year as now;  
The devil take you, sweetest,  
Ere I make aught such vow.  
Life is a masque that changes,  
A fig for constancy!  
No love at all were better,

Than love which is not free.

"That was very sad", commented Scarlett a moment later.

"Did you think so, I found it very honest. There does come an end to all things."

"How much did you love me, when you still did", Scarlett asked softly.

He was surprised at the sadness in her voice. This wasn't a vanity question; she simply wanted to know what she had missed. "Very much", his voice sounded hoarse even to his own ear and he hastily cleared his throat. "I loved you very much." I still do he added to himself.

"Why didn't you ever tell me, you never once said that you did, how was I to know." Her voice held no condemnation or rebuke; he could see that she was approaching this as a surgeon might approach a cadaver. She wished to dissect the patient to acquire a complete understanding.

He decided that in this instance honesty could perhaps be the best route. "If I had told you then you would have used it against me, you would have held it over my head and then wielded said knowledge like a whip. I refused to let you pick the tune I dance to my pet."

"For all vows made are broken, we love but while we may", she quoted from the poem he'd just read. "You never told me you loved me because I would use it against you?" She laughed sharply. "You never told me because you are a coward."

"I beg your pardon," he asked his face becoming a smooth mask devoid of any emotion. How dare she? He hadn't told her he loved her because she was a cruel wench whose heart was somewhere else the entire time they'd been married except for the bitter end when she had had her epiphany and discovered her love for him.

She struggled to sit up calling on every ounce of strength she could muster. "You Rhett Butler are a coward. You say you loved me, loved me for years. You stole for me, risked arrest for me, and then married me because you wouldn't dishonor me by seducing me. But when I finally tell you those words that said you wanted to hear me say to you, then when I did you fled. What do you call that besides cowardice"

"Self-preservation?" he asked wryly appreciating her point of view.

She studied him for a time, quietly without hysteria. She was searching deeply looking for something and he half hoped she found it. She was right; he was a coward. He loved her even now and he should tell her. Had she really changed so much? It was hard to say. It felt like she had changed, but he couldn't take that chance.

"Have you found what you're looking for?" he asked finally, the feeling of being so deeply assessed was becoming disconcerting.

"I'm trying to see if you look different now that you don't love me anymore. I suppose you do, you don't look at me like you're waiting for something anymore. I use to call that your cat at the mouse hole look. It's gone now."

It was gone because he had found what he was looking for, her love. He should tell her how he felt but not tonight, not after they had just exchanged angry words. There was time yet; plenty of time to chose a course. He rose from the chair and leaned forward to brush a kiss on her forehead.

"Get some sleep, no doubt Doctor Cross will be here early tomorrow." He left her room for his without a backward glance.


	16. Mea Culpa

Doctor Cross, true to Rhett's prediction, arrived just after eight the following morning. He asked Scarlett how she was feeling and while he took her temperature and gently manipulated her legs looking for an increase in mobility and feeling asked if she was eager to get out of bed.

She answered him politely and then all but begged him to lift the bed rest order.

Rhett was out on the piazza smoking a cheroot. He could hear Scarlett laying on the charm and he smiled in spite of the angry words they had exchanged last night. She had called him a coward and what angered him most was that she was fairly correct in that observation. He never did tell her that he loved her, how was she to know that?

"Please, I'm sure the fresh air would be wonderful for my constitution", Scarlett pleaded, smiling winningly.

Doctor Cross smiled back. Scarlett Butler was one of the most beautiful woman he had ever had the pleasure of treating. He had gone so far as to ask several people about her in a very roundabout manner and learned bits and pieces about her.

Her mother, Ellen, had been one of the haughty Savannah Robiliards. Doctor Cross vaguely remembered hearing his sister once speak of Scarlett's aunts Pauline and Eulaine and some scandal about their youngest sister and a cousin of the Robiliards, a Chalice, if he remembered correctly and if there was one thing Jason Cross prided himself on it was his expansive memory. Knowing the Robiliard sisters to have no other sisters but a younger one who had married an Irish plantation owner he surmised this to be Scarlett's mother.

He found Scarlett to be intriguing and so different from other woman that everything about her beguiled him. Even the name Scarlett was an unusual one. Rosemary Butler had spelled it for him when he was jotting notes about Scarlett's case. He assumed it to be a nickname perhaps in tribute to her scarlet red lips but once Rosemary spelled the name he tried not to snicker. Scarlett's father was obviously very Irish indeed if he had named his daughter after the Scarlett's. The Scarletts were a secretive Irish society who had fought with the Irish Volunteers for a free Ireland.

Doctor Cross wondered if Scarlett knew what had happened to the fighting force she had so obviously been named for. They were denounced as traitors to the crown of England and then hung for their pains. Of her Irish roots he knew almost nothing and didn't care to learn. The peasant and serf blood that coursed through her veins only added to her mystique blending perfectly with her haughty French blue blood.

It was her French forebears that intrigued him most. From the apothecary that he ordered through on occasion he learned a great deal about her grandfather, Pierre Robiliard. Pierre Robiliard had been a Napoleonic solider who, having surviving the wreck of Napoleon's throne, had founded his fortunes anew on the Georgia coast. He was still a powerful man even though he hadn't left his home in nearly 10 years after a particularly de-habilitating stroke.

Through Camille Saint-Saëns, an elderly friend of his sister Virginia, he had been able to delve even further into Scarlett's linage. Her Great-grandfather Prudhomme Vézelay had carved a small kingdom out of the dark jungles of Haiti. During the slave revolts he fled Place Prudhomme in Haiti and settled in Savannah with his small daughter, Solange. Solange grew up to marry twice before marrying Pierre even though she was a staunch French Catholic and he a devout Protestant.

Camille had disclosed several incidental pieces of gossip about the exploits of various Robiliards, Ellen in particular. No wonder Scarlett Butler fairly pulsed with vitality. She had centuries of aristocratic French men and woman before her.

It was a sin that she was tied by matrimony to a man like Rhett Butler. Under different circumstances…but no that didn't bear thinking about. She was married and Jason Cross was above it was courting a married woman.

Scarlett had enchanted him though he would never admit that to a living soul. However, for all his admiration; she was a married woman and he treated her as such, with a polite interest and an air of clinical detachment in an attempt to cloak his turbulent inner thought.

"Doctor Cross, you haven't been listening to a word I've said," chastised Scarlett playfully, "For shame."

He would never hint to her about his feelings 'but', he thought with a smile, he wasn't above making a few comments to rile Rhett Butler.'

"Scarlett, you are incredibly beautiful and if I were a beau and not a doctor no doubt I would be yours to command. However, you are still running a temperature so in this bed you'll stay. That is my final world on the matter so I'm afraid you'll have to use your charming smiles on your husband for a piece of jewelry or a new fur."

Rhett flicked the end of cheroot into the shrubbery below. He entered Scarlett's room and closed the French doors behind him. The noise the closing doors made drew Scarlett's attention to Rhett. Scarlett watched him enter the room with such amazing grace of movement that it seemed impossible when one took into consideration how tall and broad shouldered he was.

"Doctor Cross," he greeted the doctor as succinctly as possible. The fewer words that he had to pass between himself and Jason Cross the better.

"Good morning Mr. Butler. Scarlett and I were just discussing you," Doctor Cross smiled showing his even white teeth.

"In the most glowing of terms I'm sure," replied Rhett blandly. He leaned causally against the wall. "How is Scarlett this morning?"

"She is coming along nicely. I expect her to be completely over the flu by the end of next week. We were also discussing what happens after she's recovered from this bout of influenza."

Rhett met her eyes. She was clearly upset and she looked away after a minute or so. He thought she might tell him what Doctor Cross said but when it was clear that she wasn't going to make any attempt to speak Doctor Cross continued. "I believe that it's likely with a little practice Scarlett could use a stick to walk by the end of March. I think that if she takes it slow, doesn't overexert herself she should be back to herself by June, July at the absolute latest."

"A stick", cried Scarlett, her voice heavy with indignation, "I'll look as though I'm a hundred with a bad case of gout to boot."

"Who cares what it will look like," replied Doctor Cross curtly, "what matters is that you'll be on your feet again. The longer you stay in bed the longer it will take for you to recover. It's as simple as that."

"All the more reason for me to be allowed out of bed for some fresh air," Scarlett insisted.

"Would an hour or two in the fresh air be worth the rest of your life in bed," asked Doctor Cross.

"No, of course not," said Scarlett vehemently.

"Then you'll stay in bed till you are fully recovered." Doctor Cross picked up his satchel and after telling Scarlett to send for him if she needed him Doctor Cross departed.

Scarlett turned her green eyes back to Rhett and he met her stare with his own dark eyes. She waited for him to speak but he only stood leaning against the wall in an insolent pose. "Doctor Cross is gone, I don't need a chaperone any longer."

Rhett sat down next to her bed. "I'd like to talk about last night."

"Which part of last night?" she asked sarcastically. The her expression changed to one of mock surprise, "Why you don't mean the part of last night when I called you a coward?"

"Scarlett, may I speak to you, frankly?"

She shrugged her shoulders delicately. "By all means, say whatever it is you need to say. I wouldn't want you to have anything else left unsaid."

"I was a coward when it came to you." He smiled a little as he began to speak and for once in her life Scarlett listened to someone else with out wondering how doing so would benefit her.

"I fell in lust with you the first time I saw you at Twelve Oaks. You were very attractive; but you were more girl than woman then. I was not, despite my villainous reputation, usually so attracted to such a young virginal belle. True, I thought you were different the way you met my eye and held it when you felt me watching you and your friend from the bottom of the stairs. I thought it would be extremely pleasant to spend an evening with you but I honestly didn't think any further in the future in regards to the yet unknown young woman who I saw a short time later sitting in a circle of admiring beaux."

His expression was so far away that Scarlett almost tried not to breath, afraid she would startle him out of his reflections. Rhett was letting his guard down and Scarlett was determined to learn as much as she could about the love that Rhett had carried for her for so many years.

"You were not the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. That wasn't what caused me to want you so badly", though she did not speak Rhett could sense Scarlett bristling at the suggestion that he considered other woman to be better looking than her. He laughed softly, not cruelly but with genuine amusement. "It was only later in the library when you struck Mister Wilkes and then when your anger wasn't fully sated you threw that vase across the room that I knew I wanted you. I wanted to see that same passion directed at me. I thought of you many times after that. I assumed I'd never see you again, you would marry a gallant lad in gray and all of that fire would be wasted on a brood of children and obligations to your husband's home, but then fate played a trick on me." He came to sit at her bedside.

"I saw you at the bazaar and you were in widow weeds. I saw you throughout the war, bringing you presents, escorting you to parties, and the like. And one night I actually asked you to be my mistress." He laughed softly at the memory of that night.

She colored a mottled red at the memory of that night just two month before the fall of Atlanta to the Yankees. She could recall the letter from Gerald that she had in the bosom of her corset directly over her heart. Placed there as though that would bring Tara and Ellen closer. That was the letter where he father mentioned Careen had typhoid and Ellen asked Scarlett to say a rosary for her sister's recovery. Her sister who had recovered, but not Ellen. She remembered that letter and that night and her reply to Rhett's query as to her interest in becoming his mistress.

_What had she blurted out even as she was being overcome by feelings of rage, punctured vanity and disappointment threw her mind into turmoil? She didn't immediately go in the house or slap his swarthy grinning face. No, she blurted out the first words that came to her lips--_

_"Mistress! What would I get out of that except a passel of brats?_

Even now years later she still thought of what her mother's reaction would have been. 'Oh mother', thought Scarlett wretchedly, thank goodness you can't see what's become of me.

Words from one of her mother's prayers came to her, they were the only Latin she actually knew. _Quia peccavi nimis cogitatione, verbo et opere mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa_.

She knew he was waiting for a response so she spoke the simple truth. "I would never have agreed. At least not then," she added softly.

"No, you wouldn't have my dear, at least not for the sake of pleasure. On the other hand you would have sold yourself to me to save Tara and to keep a roof over your family's heads."

It wasn't an accusation and she knew it but still it stung and angry words came to her lips before she could help it. "What was I supposed to do, allow trash to live in my father's house? Have my family tossed out in the road. I'm sorry that my morals were so low that I'd put my family's needs ahead of my virtue. I never claimed to be a lady like my mother or Melly. They were the ones with honor, not me. I would have done anything necessary to save Tara."

They sat in silence for a time Scarlett studiously avoiding looking at Rhett. If she had turned her attention to him she would have seen the look of speculation in his eyes. He wanted to tell her something but he didn't quite now how to put the thought into words.

After a brief pause Rhett began to speak, sounding almost reluctant to give voice to a sentiment that he had carried for years in his mind but until now had never spoken aloud.

"Miss Melly could afford honor so long as someone else paid the bill as you did when you married Frank Kennedy to save Tara. I've always admired Miss Melanie, no doubt I will continue to do so until the day I die, but it was your strength and your willingness to live outside of the code of conduct that she so rigidly adhered to that saved her very life. Had you not been so close with a man who was no longer received by decent people how would you have gotten her out of town when Atlanta fell? If you hadn't been willing to come to me and offer your body in exchange for three hundred dollars you would have never run into Frank Kennedy. Further more it was your lack of virtues that allowed you to marry your sister's suitor and then press his outstanding customers to build up his business. Wasn't Ashley preparing to move them up north when you begged him to help you run the lumber mills…"

He continued to speak but a loud roar in her ears that accompanied the hot blood that stained her cheeks drowned his words out. Her Irish, as he had often called her spats of anger, was up and she was livid. How could he say that Melly allowed her to make all the sacrifices? He almost sounded as though he thought her to be stronger than Melly. Melly who had cared for everyone in his or her hour, both herself and Rhett included

"How could you say that?" There were angry tears in her voice. Scarlett was so angry that she didn't even realize that she had begun to shout. "Melly was a saint…"

Rhett didn't raise his voice to met Scarlett's angry pitch. His own voice was modulated and he continued in the same gentle tone. "Miss Melanie was a lady, that's entirely true. But part of being a lady, or in Ashley Wilkes' case, a gentleman is the ability to hold onto honor with the full expectation that someone or something will make it possible for you to continue to do so."

"You sound as though you're criticizing her," said Scarlett reproachfully. She was still angry, but her voice was now lower to match his.

"I'm sorry if it sounds that way. I'm simply saying that comparing your virtues to Miss Melly's would be like comparing apples and oranges. Both are fruit but that's where there similarities end." He reached toward her and stroked her cheek gently.

"If I were to take my analogy further …" He rose slightly from his chair and rested his hand on her bed. He leaned toward her and gently he cupped her cheek and slowly he began to lean further forward. Scarlett closed her eyes and with great care he tilted her head back. Her lips pursed ready to receive the kiss she just knew was about to come. But it didn't come.

_that I have sinned exceedingly, in thought, word and deed: through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault._


	17. ut prosim That I may Serve

Emily entered Scarlett's room with a pleasant smile. A smile that faltered for a moment when she saw how close her brother and sister in law were to one another.

Damnation, she thought, I should have knocked. It was obvious that they had either been about to kiss or had just finished kissing. She wondered to herself if she dared ask Scarlett which it was.

Rhett straightened and turned toward his sister in law. He bowed politely and Emily gave a mock curtsy.

Scarlett noticed that Emily looked different somehow from when she'd seen her the night before, it wasn't just her attire it was her attitude, she was lighter, somehow more buoyant.

Emily was neatly attired in her traveling clothes. Her dress was simple with the softer, no steel, starched fabric bustle that was just starting to come into vogue for long trips. Her dress was fashioned from a fine woolen in an Abbotsford plaid. The cuff of her sleeves came down to the middle of the backs of her hands and the yellow fringe trimming the sleeves was the exact same shade as the narrow stripes of yellow running through the plaid pattern of her traveling dress. Her flat, pancake style bonnet was flattering in a non-ostentatious way with loops of yellow and blue ribbon trailing from its back.

Emily smiled taking note of Scarlett's appraising eye. "Good morning, I'm sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to see if there was anything else Scarlett wanted to tell me about the children before I left."

"Emily," Scarlett beamed, "you didn't interrupt a thing."

Rhett raised an eyebrow sardonically but said nothing to contradict Scarlett.

"I can't thank you enough for doing this for us. Rhett sent Sue a telegram explaining everything. I'd also like to apologize in advance for my sister Sue Ellen."

"Apologize? Whatever for?"

"For whatever rotten things Sue Ellen does or says and believe me she will."

Emily waved her hand airily in a dismissive gesture. "I had four brothers,I know how siblings can be."

"This is a little more complicated than a simple case of sibling rivalry. Rhett, could I speak to Emily for a moment, alone?"

He glanced at the mantel clock. "I'll walk with you to the station, we should leave in about ten minutes. I'll wait for you downstairs Emily."

Scarlett waited till she could hear Rhett's footsteps on the risers of the staircase before she began to give Emily the abridged version of the hostilities between her and Sue Ellen.

Finding a place to begin wasn't easy so Scarlett opted for the most direct route even though it didn't paint her in a particularly flattering light.

"My late husband Frank courted my sister for nearly a year before the war started and they corresponded throughout. After the war ended he came to Tara to ask my father's permission to continue to court my sister. My father was no longer lucid and it was left to me to give my permission. Frank managed to get some money saved and he had opened a store. I'm sure that he fully intended to marry my sister but…" she trailed off trying to think of a way to tell the next part of the story without having Emily think poorly of her.

"So Ella's father and your sister were engaged?" asked Emily incredulously. Rhett had mentioned that Scarlett had married a man who had been much older than her to save her family from financial disaster but apparently he hadn't wanted to completely betray Scarlett's confidence by telling the whole sordid tale.

Scarlett lowered her eyes guiltily. "They were. I honestly think that Frank would have procrastinated for years before marrying my sister, if he ever did at all. He'd come forward and then step back, but perhaps …" Scarlett shrugged tiredly, "That isn't much of an excuse I know. The overseer of my father's plantation was a Yankee who married the white trash my mother caught typhoid from; they tried to use the taxes that were outstanding on the plantation to throw us off Tara. I married Frank because if Sue had she wouldn't have sent us a dime."

"Did you love him at all?" asked Emily curiously.

Scarlett tucked some stay strands of hair behind her left ear. She looked so young and vulnerable that Emily could see how not one but three different men had been inclined to believe they had to step in and protect her from the harsh realities of life. Even cynical Rhett who had never expressed any sort of interest in taking a wife had been so consumed by this woman that he had finally married her rather than chance losing her. Scarlett lifted her eyes up again and Emily was caught by just how green they really were; like chips of shimmering peridot.

"No. Never."

"I'm sorry," replied Emily.

They looked at one another, each gaging the mettle of the other woman. Emily was trapped in a loveless marriage with a drunken brute. Scarlett had only escaped her own loveless marriages by the fortuitous deaths of her first two husbands. Scarlett reached out her hands and Emily took them. Scarlett pulled her gently toward her and then leaned forward to kiss her sister in law on the cheek.

"Tell my children I love them and I cannot wait to see them."

"Of course."

Scarlett released Emily's hands and Emily smiled at her before speaking "Everything will be fine in the end, you'll see."

Rhett and Emily walked together in comfortable silence down King Street toward the railroad station. Emily had a long trip in front of her so before they had left Miss Eleanor's house. She had selected a recent novel by Jules Verne, Around the World in Eighty Days, to read on the train. Rhett had just purchased another dozen novels for his sister from Street and Smith, the prominent New York publishing company.

Emily had been by twice during the last week to borrow various novels while Ross was at the mine office. Rhett knew from the tearful ranting of his sister that Ross didn't allow Emily to spend money on books and had once burned a book she had been reading so now Emily had to rely on Rosemary for stimulating reading material. To Rosemary being prevented from purchasing books was the ultimate torture her brother could inflict upon his wife. During the war Rhett had often given his mother a book or two for Rosemary after hearing about her voracious reading habit.

Rhett suspected that one of the reasons Emily had been so excited to collect Wade and Ella was that she'd have over twelve hours each way on the train to read without fear of discovery.

Emily would take the train the 120 miles to Savannah and from there to Atlanta. She was then going to take the train out to Jonesboro where Will would meet her. Rhett couldn't't express how much he appreciated the lengths Emily was going to so that Scarlett could be reunited with her children and said as much.. "Emily, I really can't thank you enough."

"On the contrary Rhett, a day to myself and then two days with your children, I'm very happy to do this for you and of course, for Scarlett."

Rhett looked at his sister in law from the corner of his eye, she was obviously mulling over something and he decided to take the bull by the horns and ask what was on her mind. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"I was just thinking about Scarlett and her children, what will happen to them after the divorce becomes final?" asked Emily pensively.

Rhett blanched slightly giving his normally swarthy skin a touch of paleness. "Nothing will happen to them, I'll take care of them as I've always done."

"Do you think their next stepfather is going to be so keen on that proposition?"

Rhett was silent and Emily pressed him further.

"You do realize that once you divorce her, Scarlett could remarry. She is very beautiful and still a fairly young woman. The fact that she is divorced might be a deterrent to some men but, then again, she was married to a man who for years wasn't received. If she chooses, she could paint a very convincing portrait of a young woman who was taken advantage of by a notorious rake."

"She wouldn't remarry. She loves me."

Emily laughed aloud. "Did you just realize that?"

"No, I suppose I've know for sometime."

"Rhett you love her, it's painfully obvious to everyone around you. Its obvious from the way your eyes follow her when she is in the room. During the season when I'd see you at a function every time she laughed you'd look up to see the expression on her face. You deliberately ignored her flirtation with Middleton Courtney because you know that it wasn't in earnest, Scarlett was just trying to drive you to action through jealousy."

"I can't trust her."

"Don't be a fool Rhett or you'll lose her, for real this time. Pride makes an awfully cold bedfellow."

They had reached the platform and her train was already there. Emily stood on tiptoe ignoring propriety to kiss Rhett on his cheek. "Don't antagonize Ross please, I'd like to come home and find my home in one piece."

Rhett smiled in an almost boyish manner before making a fist, which he placed in a knightly gesture over his heart. "I'll try to avoid my brother like the plague."

"Promises, promises," she laughed sweetly not believing him for an instant.


	18. ab intra from within

_**I want you to all think back to those relationship conversations you have with yourself...for my under 20's you may not have had THAT conversation yet...the one where you are thinking back to a really horrible moment in a relationship and your mind tries to comment on what it's remembering all the while telling you what you should do...all the while forgetting that it's all said and done.**_

_**Then this look inside Rhett's mind may make more sense than it would appear to at first glance**_

Rhett waited till Emily boarded the train before he turned to head home. Emily's advice regarding Scarlett was sound. He knew that it was. He hated feeling so unsure of what to do regarding his wife. He couldn't simply forgive and forget because it wasn't in him to be the bigger person.

Could he accept that she loved him? She had already been the one to confess her love for him in Atlanta and since she'd come to Charleston she had told him several times what she felt for him. He had given her no encouragement, nothing to hang her hopes on, but she continued to love him unrequited.

He had been cool to her, straightforward about his desire to dissolve their marriage. He had given her no indication that there was any emotion left in him when it came to her. Except for that one night last month, remembering that night sparked a seldom felt emotion within him, shame.

Her bravery in the face of his detestable behavior was astonishing. He could clearly remember the night he had come home after sailing with Tommy Wellborn. He had been so furious with her that he had wanted to be cruel, indeed so cruel that she'd be counting the days till she could walk away from him.

After mass had let out his cousin Eustace had offered to second him if he challenged Middleton Courtney to a duel over his behavior regarding Scarlett. Rhett had wanted to laugh in his cousin Eustace's face. First of all he was positive that Scarlett was just leading on the foppish pup Courtney to make a point. She was desirable, very much so, and if Rhett didn't want her other men would. Secondly, if he shot Courtney all the progress he had made in Charleston would evaporate like a puddle of water on hot slate. In a final twist at the macabre the thought of being involved in another duel with Eustace, as his second seemed laughable in a horrific sort of way. This time he would be the wronged party entitled to shoot a man for paying unwholesome attention to another man's wife.

Her constant flirting had really only served to amuse him. He had laughingly accused her of still thinking herself the cutest trick in shoe leather, the belle of Clayton County, forever the pride of Tara. But truly she was beautiful, achingly so. The defeats and agonies she had suffered in the last year had only served to provide her with an invisible mantle of something mysterious, almost otherworldly.

She seemed to walk through life now as someone different from the Scarlett O'Hara he had known for years. Someone who tempted him more and more each day, she had to leave his mother's house on the date they had discussed earlier that week on the Launch when they had returned from the Landing. The foreseeable corollary from her not leaving soon would be him succumbing once more to her considerable charms. He knew her for who she was, and the hell of it was, that made him want her all the more.

Damn her for not accepting his vehement statements that their marriage was over. Damn her to hell for allowing Courtney to hang all over her at every engagement they'd attended in January.

Not that he cared who she took her bed if only she'd do it anywhere but in Charleston, the voice in his head that was inclined toward treachery added, "in his sight." He grimaced angrily at that, why should he care who she slept with, he was done with her and their sham of a marriage so there shouldn't be a question as to wanting to kill Courtney for even daring to leer in Scarlett's general direction.

Upon reaching his mother's house he found that he was now beyond angry but truly deeply passionately enraged. It was enigmatic this anger that he felt with her, with himself, with the world in general. He knew that she hadn't gone with his mother and sister to Sally Brewton's recital because her paisley capelet still hung on the coat rack. She wasn't in the parlor and so he went upstairs and found her in her room, sleeping soundly in her bed.

She had been the picture of maidenly innocence in her sheer clinging nightdress and sleepy bedroom eyes. She hadn't taken advantage of them being alone in the house by waiting for him in some alluring evening gown. He would have been on familiar ground with her trying to manipulate the situation to her advantage. Then he could have accused her of playing the whore to Courtney's pandering. She would have been furious and he could have baited her further till that fury built to an explosive burst of anger.

Perhaps she would have turned her back on him and then he could be rid of the feeling of helpless uncertainty that ate at him when it came to her feelings for him. How could he believe that she now finally loved him? He couldn't. Not willingly.

She had been wearing a thin nightdress that clung to her everywhere a nightdress should. She hadn't been lying in wait, she had been sleeping and he had pounced, ripping her from her bed to make cutting remarks on her supposedly sordid behavior. He could read her expressive eyes, when he pushed in the door and barged into her room she thought that lust had drowned out his resolve and he was going to make love to her.

That only served to infuriate him all the more because he wanted her. God help him, he wanted to slam the door shut and take her again and again till she screamed his name and left claw marks tattooed on his back as a keepsake. To counter his feelings of lust he lashed out at her telling her that she was a millstone around his neck and a potential embarrassment just waiting to happen.

When he grabbed her and held her against him he could feel her breasts rising and falling against his chest with every nervous breath she took. His own shirt was damp from the sea spray and soon the front of her nightgown was also damp causing the garment to revel more than it concealed.

He was not a sadist; the sight of her panic was not what made him begin to swell with desire. It was the way she smelled and how, when he had shaken her to emphasize his point, her hair had flown wildly about her shoulders before the ends of her tresses tumbled over her shoulders to come to rest just skimming the rise of her breasts. How smooth and soft her bared skin felt under his clenched grasp was…

The knowledge that it could take so little to entice him when it came to her made him shove her backwards in an attempt to squelch all the emotions that came from just touching her.

He had been ashamed and disappointed in himself, he had never physically abused her and throwing her into the carved post at the end of the bed seemed to be dangerously close to abuse. He left hurriedly before he hurt her more than he already had. He knew that if he had stayed in the room he would have hurt her badly and that would have been unforgivable. He didn't want her to love him but by the same token he couldn't stand for her to hate him.

Then an hour later she had come to him on the piazza and accepted his offer to leave at the end of the season and she had even found a focus for her energies, acquiring her sister Careen's share of Tara back from the Catholic Church. How could his heart not ache for her? He could see in her eyes that his rejection had been a blow that hurt more than any physical act ever could have. He had done just what he had come home to do, hurt her badly enough to drive her away. Then why wasn't he happy?

He was Rhett Butler, adventurer, blockade-runner, and a man who knew his own mind and charted his own course. He was also in love with a girl who had become a woman without him even noticing. She didn't think she was in love with him, she knew.

Returning from his wanderings down memory lane Rhett glanced at his pocket watch, the thought of going to the mine office today to deal with his brother or to become infuriated by his absence was less then appealing. Finally he stopped to look out over the Cooper River and there he stood for an interminable span of time before he walked home the long way, along the stonewall that ran along the Battery.


	19. magnum opus

Scarlett lay in bed paging idly through Harper's. She had already decided to have a whole new wardrobe made for Ella. Since it seemed that she was to be trapped in bed for another week she would simply have all the excitement of shopping for dresses brought to her. She'd have merchants bring the samples here to the house for her and Ella to select from and then she'd just ask Miss Eleanor if the dressmaker could use the room across the hall to fit Ella.

It would be something that she and Ella could do together, For all her silliness Ella loved picking out clothes especially pretty outfits. Even though she was afraid of horses Ella had insisted on having a green velvet riding habit just as Bonnie's was blue simply because Ella couldn't bear to be left out of a shopping excursion.

Scarlett sighed as she flipped another few pages. Now she realized what she had been too busy and disinterested to see. A green velvet habit was what Ella wanted because, who loved green? Why, her mother did, of course. Ella wanted a habit because Bonnie was to have one, but she wanted it to be green to please her mother and her mother had only rolled her eyes at the idea of velvet habits instead of sensible black broadcloth.

It wasn't too late, she was going to try and be the kind of mother that her own mother had been; kind, always with a moment to talk or a word of wisdom, and encouragement. She knew that she would never be Lady Bountiful. That dream had been shelved along with all the other dreams of her youth, but she could still be a good mother to both her children. With Wade it would be harder because he was older and might no longer care whether or not his mother made an effort towards building a better relationship.

Thinking of Wade also served to remind her that Wade would also need new clothes but Rhett generally took the boy to his tailor so she wasn't presently concerned about Wade's wardrobe. She was sure that Rhett would like to spend sometime alone with Wade and perhaps that would be the ideal time.

She wondered if the children had grown in the last three months and then laughed shortly. What a motherly thought Mrs. Butler, she thought, amused. Next, you'll be bragging to anyone who'll listen about every little thing they do. Scarlett didn't see the stories she told with pride to her Aunts and sister in laws about Ella's paintings or Wade's desire to be a lawyer as bragging. To her mind it was true, so why shouldn't she be proud of her children?

Wade most likely would have grown even taller since she had last seen him. She didn't really expect that her greedy sister had spent the money she had been sending for Ella and Wade on fashionable clothes for them. No doubt most of what they would bring could be passed on to Miss Eleanor to be distributed by the numerous charities she was involved with.

Scarlett tossed the magazine on the bed and Toby pounced on it playfully tearing the cover. She picked him up and settled him next to her. He regarded her balefully and she chucked him under the chin. It was nice to have some company even if it was only a rambunctious puppy. Her lack of company brought her thoughts once more to Rhett.

Rhett had been gone all day. She hadn't really expected him to come rushing back to her after walking Emily to the station. During the last three months she had gained more insight to Rhett's inner workings than she had in the all years she had known him and been married to him.

She had disappointed him and let him down repeatedly. That look that had been in his eyes, his cat at the mouse hole look, that had been waiting and longing. He had believed that she would come to love him, to realize that she didn't need Ashley's love when she had all the love she could ever want waiting for her if only she'd open her eyes and see it. She felt guilty, but angry too. Yes she had never given him the love he sought till an amazing amount of damage had been wrought, but he never once told her that he loved her.

When he left he took her heart and soul with him out into the misty pre-dawn fog that shrouded Atlanta the night Melly died. He was only partially right, their marriage had ended that night in Atlanta, but the love she felt for him hadn't and she was finally sure that the love that he felt for her, that he claimed had "run out" hadn't at all. She had come all the way to Charleston to be near him, if only he'd care enough to meet her the rest of the way. Loving him had changed her life completely, turning it upside down, completely obliterating all her plans and goals.

Once, she had only wanted to be rich, so rich that nothing could harm her. Now she only wanted to share Rhett's life and his bed. Irony this blatant was not lost on her. She had once thrown Rhett out of her bed because she didn't want any more children and now all she wanted from life was the chance to give him another child. A child to prove how much she loved him and how much she was determined to change about herself and the way she perceived things. A child they could both spoil and love. Not another little girl though…

Scarlett blinked back threatening tears at thoughts of Bonnie. She wouldn't think about Bonnie just now otherwise she would cry and that would accomplish nothing.

He had nearly kissed her. He would have, Scarlett knew it. Rhett knew it too, she was sure of it. If only Emily had come a minute later. Scarlett glanced toward the window; the sun was a burning orange ball sinking lower and lower by the minute into the horizon line.

From Rhett's room, through the closed door, Scarlett could hear muffled thumps. Toby jumped down and stationed himself in front of the door, one ear cocked, listening to drawers opening and shutting.

"Rhett?" called Scarlett, as her lips curved into what Rhett always called her satisfied cat smile. So he had come home early from the mines.

A drawer closed before Rhett opened their adjoining door. Toby sat patiently, he didn't bark because he knew that his mistress would welcome this person into her room. Rhett reached down and patted the small hound for a moment before standing back up. He made no move to sit in the chair next to her bed or to even come further into the room.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" he asked politely.

Oh, so he was going to pretend nothing had happened earlier in the day was he, thought Scarlett. She was angry, but also amused. Emily was right, Rhett did love her but, he was going to do everything in his power to fight it, even going so far as to pretend that the bold faced lie she had told Emily earlier about not interrupting anything was true.

"I wasn't sleeping. What were you doing, you were making a terrific racket?"

"Packing."

Her mouth dropped open a little and her eyes widened in shocked. The wind had been knocked out of her just as surely as if he'd punched her in the stomach. Packing? He was leaving her once again. Scarlett tried to breath deeply; it wouldn't do her any good if she fainted. She had to stay strong. Even if he left her; especially if he left her.

"You're going away?" she asked tersely, letting those few words speak volumes.

He didn't want to hurt her, he just needed some time away from her, time to think and plan for their future. He was coming to believe that they did have a future together but it would be a treacherous climb up an icy slope.

"Just overnight. I have to go to the Landing; I'll be home sometime tomorrow afternoon or possibly in the evening."

"Is anything the matter?" she asked quietly, her voice now smooth with a hint of polite concern. She wanted to yell at him, she wanted to tell him that he was running from her once again. He had nearly kissed her; he still wanted to kiss her she knew that he did. Every time he let his control slip when it came to her, he ran.

Rhett admired her determination. He could tell she was unhappy with the news of his sudden departure, but she wasn't going to berate him. She was trying to give him the space to heal that he had requested from her months ago.

"Nothing in particular, I just want to make sure the repairs have started on the east wing of the main house and the workers I've hired are going to start dredging the rice fields on Monday so I want to be sure that they have everything they need to begin."

"Are you replanting the rice fields?" she asked recalling their conversation the previous month. He had been so focused on bringing back the camellias that he hadn't begun to consider planting any sort of cash crop. When she had made the suggestion, trying only to be supportive, he had called her a barbarian and had made a few other insulting observations. Scarlett couldn't recall them and couldn't be bothered to try.

He smiled at her before venturing further into her room before coming to her bedside. "I am indeed, a wise woman pointed out that I needed some cash crops because, how did she so succinctly put it," he grinned before teasing her further, "ah yes, you can't eat flowers."

She smiled weakly without making a reply.

Rhett took her hands in his. He might not be willing to admit the full extent of his feeling for her but he wanted to alleviate some of her worries. "I will come home tomorrow night, I'm not leaving you again. I just need to make sure everything at the Landing will run smoothly while I'm busy here."

"Thank you," she replied, gratitude plain in her voice despite the simplicity of her words.

He leaned forward and gently kissed her face. His lips brushed against the highest curve of her cheekbone, just in front of her ear. She could feel every single prickly hair in his moustache against the sensitive skin of her face.

Initially, she had thought he was going to kiss her on the mouth and she had reached for him, fully intending to wrap her arms around his neck. Embarrassed by her mistaken assumption of his intentions she opted to embrace him instead in an attempt to try and conceal her mistaken assumptions.

Surprised at her display of affection without any visible sign of an ulterior motive Rhett sat down on Scarlett's bed and enfolded her into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest.

Scarlett leaned her head against his muscular chest, his heart beating with constant thuds in her ear. It was so comfortable to sit quietly with him holding her that she never wanted to leave the protective circle of his arms.

Rhett moved his right hand from her waist so that he could gently stroke her hair. Earlier in the day Scarlett had instructed Penny to simply brush her hair and tie it back with a maroon ribbon. During the day the slippery silk ribbon had slid down her horsetail. Now strands of hair had started to work their way free and he gently twined his fingers in these loose locks of hair.

He enjoyed the feel of her hair under his hand. He had always been drawn to her raven black locks, which she dismissed as being woefully as straight as an Indian's. In New Orleans she had bought a knot of false curls and he had immediately consigned them to the fire. He liked her hair just the way it was; long, thick, and silky.

Frequently, when she would lie in his arms with the moonlight streaming over their bed, he would draw her black hair across his face and wrapped it about his throat, inhaling the fragrance of lilac and rosewater. No matter how ostentatiously she dressed after they were married her taste in fragrance never changed from the light floral scent she had used since he'd met her at Twelve Oaks.

The ribbon tying her hair back snagged on his cufflink and Rhett decided that he wanted her hair free from the confines of the ribbon. Gently, so as not to tug her hair, Rhett tugged on the end of the ribbon and deftly pulled the bow loose. Scarlett's hair cascaded well past her shoulders as it was freed from the simple horsetail she had worn it in. He ran his hand down the surface of her hair, stroking it with easy familiarity.

"I've always thought you should leave your hair down," said Rhett tranquilly, as he stroked the back of her neck with his fingertips through her hair. She shivered gently and he smiled without a trace of scorn at the tremor that ran through her.

Scarlett luxuriated in the serene way he continued to stroke her hair. The tension of the past year seemed to be melting away with each languid stroke.

"That's not what you told me, you've told me on more than one occasion that you liked my hair up because it gave you access to my throat. Although," she added with a laugh, "I've never been entirely sure if you wanted my throat exposed because you meant to caress it or tear it out."

He stopped stroking her hair at her comment. Actions would speak louder than words at this point. All of his adult life Rhett had affected a suave countenance that he presented to the world as his true self. Now he couldn't find the words to tell Scarlett that he though he still loved, her he also found her behavior throughout most of their marriage to be hard to move past.

How could he tell her, in a way that she wouldn't misconstrue, that there was a kernel of trust growing in him that could burst into bloom if it were only given time to germinate? They needed time to reacquaint themselves. To be completely honest in Rhett's own estimation, they needed to acquaint themselves.

"Will you miss me while I'm at the landing?" he asked suddenly.

Scarlett lifted her head from his chest so that she could tilt her head up to meet his inquisitive gaze. That look, it was there, he was waiting for something, could that something be her? There was only one way to find out.

"I shall count the minutes till you return," she replied flirtatiously.

"Every one of them?" he replied, pretending to be astounded.

"And the seconds too," said Scarlett, with a smile. This was new and intoxicating, Rhett was speaking to her like a beau come courting. Certainly Rhett had never acted this way before and it intrigued her and inspired her to answer his banter with her own.

Rhett grinned "And the seconds too? Sweetheart, you overwhelm me."

Scarlett smiled and ducked her head in a show of docile modesty that she hadn't employed in years, not since the twins and Rad and scores of other boys had presented themselves for her consideration of their qualifications for the position of her beau. Rhett lifted her chin to tilt her head back.

"I have a secret," said Rhett in a low voice that sent a shiver of anticipation through her.

"Do you?" she asked lifting her eyebrow. "Do tell?"

"I'll miss you too," Rhett said before lowering his lips to hers.

He kissed her gently at first; his lips were soft in direct contrast with the sharp bristles of his moustache. His left arm was still draped around her waist and he used it to draw her completely onto his lap. Scarlett opened her mouth to his insistent tongue and fearlessly she met his kisses with her own.

He groaned with pleasure at her passionate response and telling the warning bells in his head to go to hell, he acted without taking full measure of the consequences of his actions.

Sliding his free hand between them, Rhett began to unfasten the buttons holding her nightgown closed. Scarlett lowered her own hands from around his neck to the front of his suit coat and began to franticly work the garment down his arms.

She wanted him desperately and it was obviously that he felt the same way. She only hoped that her body wouldn't fail her. While the feeling had slowly begun to return to her legs, she was often so stiff that she was concerned she'd never walk properly again. He moved away from her for a moment to allow her to push back his jacket from his body.

"I love you," she whispered so softly that her words were contained in a breath. He didn't acknowledge hearing her but instead reclaimed her lips, but for a second before he tore his lips from Scarlett's "I don't want to confuse you…"

"I'm not confused," she replied breathlessly. Her lips were red from his kisses and her eyes glowed secretively like stars.

"I don't want you to think I'm making any promises to you that…"

"I'm not asking for anything more than right now."

Rhett moved some tendrils of hair away from Scarlett's face. "I don't want to hurt you."

Scarlett rested her palms on his cheeks. "I've already hurt you so much, how is it that you can still care about me?"

He curved his own hands over her smaller ones, removing them from his face. He continued to hold them in his own hands. "I've spent the entire season struggling to restrain every instinct that told me to make love to you and worry about the consequences at a later date. It's not your body or even your face that makes me long for you. For the love of God, it's the way the candlelight brings out the sheen of your hair. I love the way every emotion you're feeling comes into your face when you're excited, and the passion in your eyes when you are angry. When I told you I had ceased to care for you I was lying. Lying to you…and to myself."

"Do you…" Releasing her right hand he put his fingers to her mouth before she could finish her query.

Anticipating that her question had to do with whether or not he felt more than just care for her Rhett stopped her from going any further.

"I'm not sure. Just as I don't want to hurt you, I do want to be honest with you. I don't trust you with my heart; after everything that's been between us, I can't, at least not at present. I do believe you when you say you love me. I'm just not sure how long this new found veneration can last."

"Till the day I die," she declared vehemently.

"I know you presuppose that this love you claim to have for me will last long after the citadels have crumbled under the weight of time, but I find myself wary after seeing how your grand passion for Mister Wilkes expired at long last."

She fought to keep her voice steady. She couldn't give in to hysterics. She had to be strong. This was the chance that Emily spoke of, a chance to prove that she was truly willing to give herself whole-heartedly to him.

"What I felt for Ashley wasn't love," at his look of incredulous disbelief she reiterated herself with more force, "it wasn't. It was envy and childish adoration. He symbolized the life I thought I should want; Mistress of a plantation, a genteel husband from a good family. I needed to convince myself that I wanted the things my mother expected a daughter of her's to want. What I feel for you can't just be over one day because loving you is a part of me. If I didn't love you anymore it would be because I was dead. That's how I know this love will last."

He closed his eyes for a minute before opening them to study her as though seeing her for the first time. "I once told you I've never been one to try and patiently pick up broken fragments and glue them together and tell myself that the mended item was as good as new. What's broken is broken."

"I see," she said, even as her stomach clenched into a knot of nausea and despair.

"You say that but from the look in your eyes I know you don't see, at least not yet. I'm trying to explain that when I told you in Atlanta that I thought I was too old to believe in such sentimentalities as clean slates and starting all over," he took a breath before continuing, he was revealing a bared soul to her and it was difficult, but he did it, "I may have been wrong. I do know that I'm too old to shoulder the burden of constant lies that go with living in polite disillusionment. If we decide to make a go of this, if we try to build something new and different from our last marriage between us it won't be easy."

He could see that she was still confused and he sought an example that would perhaps illustrate his point. "When you were a child did your father ever build houses from playing cards with you as a way to pass a rainy day?"

Scarlett smiled fondly. Her father would always seek out the Queen of Heats and give it to her before they'd start to build whole towns of card cottages. "Yes, when I was little we'd build whole towns. Sometimes pa would map out Ballyhara, the town he grew up in."

"Do you remember building a house that grew too large and after arranging so many cards one misplaced card…"

"Could bring the whole house tumbling down," finished Scarlett.

He laid the back of his hand on her cheek and she leaned into it, allowing it to support her. "I underestimated you, you do see my meaning. If you and I are to have a chance at building something that endures it will have to be one card at a time. If we move too quickly the whole house of cards could come tumbling down leaving us unable to build again." He removed his hand and she lifted her head and squared her shoulders.

They fell silent for a time regarding one another with equally level gazes.

"I should go now if I want to make the last launch, I'll have to hurry." Gently sliding her off of his lap and back onto the bed, Rhett then stood.

Thinking back to when he asked her to marry him in Aunt Pittypat's parlor Scarlett asked mischievously "Aren't you going to kiss me goodbye?"

"Don't you think you've had enough kissing for one evening?" he retorted before grinning down at her.

"Have you?" she challenged.

He leaned down and kissed her again, gently this time, on the lips. "I refuse to answer that based on the fact my answer may incriminate me."

"You forgot this," she said holding up his suit jacket that she had all but torn from his body. It had been discarded on her pillows.

"Thank you," he said laughing, mostly at himself, "I can't imagine how that got there."

"No? Well no fear, I'm sure you'll find an explanation."

He bowed with a flourish and she inclined her head regally, pleased to have finally gotten the last word in a conversation with Rhett.

His hand on the doorknob, he turned and smirked lightly, "Your nightgown seems to have come undone."

She only blushed slightly as he left her room, his gentle laughter still audible as he finished packing.


	20. ad astra to the stars

**And to think they picked Alexandra Ripley to write Scarlett lol they should have known the sequel would suck when compared to it's predecessor, just read the quote below**

**_"I really don't know why Scarlett has such appeal. When I began writing the sequel, I had a lot of trouble because Scarlett is not my kind of person. She's virtually illiterate, has no taste, never learns from her mistakes." –Alexandra Ripley_**

Rhett stood on the deck of the launch leaning on the waist high railing looking back toward the twinkling lights of the Battery. He could just make out the back of his mother's home and he wondered if Scarlett had gone to sleep.

Was she thinking of him as she lay in bed? He smiled smugly, of course she was. After the embrace they had shared what else could she be thinking about but him? Certainly he could think of nothing but her.

His smug smile faded to one of amusement tempered with a softness that was rare in him. She would be lying on her back if she was asleep and the moonlight that lit the starry night would make her pale skin glow. He closed his eyes and for an instant the salty tang of the harbor that met the river at the head of the battery was replaced by the smell of her perfume that still clung to his skin and his clothes...a sensory reminder of how he had held her close only a hour ago.

He would court her; it was a thought so unbidden that his eyes opened as he laughed out loud, joyously. It didn't matter that he was far to old for such a ridiculous venture and she was his often-erring wife. He was going to court her and show her the love that he had always kept concealed behind a mask of malicious jesting and cutting comments. She had been willing to humble herself, to come to him and for most of the season he had avoided her in hopes of avoiding the inevitable outcome.

When he had told Rosemary that he had dangled cash in front of Scarlett to rid himself of her out of fear that he would either fall in love with her again or kill her he realized how much bravado had truly been behind that statement.

She infuriated him, in perfect honesty drove him to distraction but when she'd smile that recklessly brave smile or when she looked at him sadly,she looked so lost as though he were the only person in the world that could extend the hand that would pull her back from the brink of devastation? How could he not have fallen back in love with her? How could he ever have convinced himself that he'd stopped?

The launch turned the last bend before it entered open water and he lost sight of his mother's house. Damn, he thought, I shouldn't have left tonight.

He had a great deal of work to accomplish at the Landing, but only a small portion of his mind would be on it, the larger portion of it had elected to abscond with his whole heart to remain behind with Scarlett." Rhett smiled broadly, to hell with previous intentions of keeping Scarlett at arms length, she was his wife and his one true love, if there was such a thing he added cynically.

Feeling more than a little foolish he spoke softly, somehow sure that she'd hear him despite the distance separating them. "Goodnight my love."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The moonlight illuminated the room with its soft ivory glow as Scarlett nudged Toby to move over slightly. The puppy was an awful bed hog but she enjoyed having his warmth near her.

She wasn't particularly tired but after Rhett had left to catch the launch she sent word to Miss Eleanor that she wouldn't be having dinner and that she'd retire for the night instead. She knew that Miss Eleanor wouldn't be pleased that Scarlett wasn't going to eat but she would simply make sure that Scarlett's breakfast tray would be all the heaver for it.

She hoped Rhett had made the launch; it would be good for them to have some time to think before they… spoke again. She giggled a little and attempted to flex her toes. She was rapidly reacquiring control of her right toes and she could just force herself to curve her foot into an arch. Her left side was still balky and it fought her at every turn, but she would vanquish her infirmity just as she had vanquished all enemies and disappointments over the years for she was finally secure in the knowledge that no matter what he said to her, Rhett Butler loved her.

He had tried to tell her otherwise but when his lips had met hers and he had begun to strip her nightgown from her body her heart had shouted the news that her soul had longed to hear, he loves me.

Had he just wanted a woman he would have visited one of Charleston's bustling whorehouses and taken his pleasure with some stranger, but he had wanted her.

Her brow creased as she frowned. She wasn't completely sure that he had been physically faithful to her during the last few years. He had been in Charleston for months before she had arrived. Could he have…her face fell and she stretched her legs again, trying to ignore the painful kinks in both of them.

But he had told her that he had wanted her all season. Emily had told her something along those lines. "He looked as though he wanted to strangle me…or ravish me," she whispered softly.

Toby raised his head from his paws and let out a small snuff. She laughed quietly. The little hound sounded as though he was asking her 'What now?'

She removed one hand from beneath the covers to stroke his head gently. "I'm being silly, after all even if he…" she didn't even want to speak the words "did visit one of those girls", aloud. Could she blame him though, barred years ago from his wife's bed and denied his martial rights, and for what? So she could honor a vow of chastity to Ashley Wilkes who had obviously not shirked his own marital duties. If he had Melanie wouldn't have died the way she did.

But Rhett had told her that he had longed for her all season so that must count for something. He'd spent the entire season struggling to restrain himself from making love to her…

"Rhett," she said her voice a breathy sigh. "I love you so." She closed her eyes and struggled into a more comfortable position. Sleep found her easily and she drifted off, a contented smile shaping her lips.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"When I told you I had ceased to care for you I was lying. Lying to you…and to myself." He had confessed to her that he cared for her. She knew that he wanted her, and finally after what seemed a lifetime of waiting she wanted him for himself, not to serve as a replacement for another man. It was all he could do to keep himself from bribing the Captain of the launch to turn right around and bring him back to the Battery.

Rhett looked overhead at the stars above him, a map for sailors since the first log cannon took to water. He could have lost her the night the boat capsized, she would have been lost to him forever and she would have died not knowing that he still loved her so.

While he didn't regret making love to her on the beach once she had regained consciousness their first time together in years should have been somewhere a little more romantic. When she was recovered he'd take her to New Orleans or Paris, Scarlett would love Paris. Then Rome, no one in the world appreciated a beautiful woman quite like the Italians. He would spend the rest of their lives making her happy. Tomorrow he'd come to his senses and devise a plan of action but tonight, tonight he had seen the light of love in her eyes and it warmed him to his core.

"We will be at the Landing in ten minutes Captain Butler," said Jermore, a half Cherokee half negro who ran three of the passenger boats that carried supplies and people to the plantations across the river.

"Thank you," he said tearing his eyes from the night sky and his thoughts from Scarlett.

"You are putting a lot into the Landing Captain."

"I am indeed Jermore."

He smiled his teeth very white in his dark red face. "I am glad you bought the place from Mister Ross."

Jermore was a fascinating character to Rhett. He remembered Jermore as they had been children together, though the heir to the Landing and the Butler dynasty had very little contact with the half breed boy who carried Miss Eleanor's keys as she made her way through each day at the Landing. His mother had learned from Jermore's mother that the name Jermore meant "a price paid" in her native tongue.

Jermore's father, Keene, had been a runaway slave from the Landing and in the course of running and hiding had fallen in love with and impregnated Sarah, Jermore's mother. According to the laws of Tennessee where Jermore's father had been apprehended the baby would be sent to the Landing as the property of Stephen Butler as it was the offspring of one of his slaves.

Jermore's mother offered to become a slave to stay with her child. Although Stephen Butler was a hard man he appreciated the sacrifice Sarah was willing to make to stay with her son. To his father family loyalty and honor were paramount of all virtues. Stephen Butler struck a deal with Sarah upon learning she was a skilled midwife and herbalist. She and the boy would stay on the plantation till the child's sixteenth birthday, the work she would do till then would be considered payment for her child.

Sarah had done as Stephen arranged, as midwife she was accorded respect, living in a cottage that she shared only with her son and Keene. True to his word at sixteen Jermore was given his papers by Stephen himself, but by then Sarah decided to stay on at the Landing as midwife. She had been there when Rhett has been disowned and though he'd never asked Jermore he assumed that she had died there.

Jermore had through various means and activities acquired three of the launches that were vital to the existence of the plantation community across the Ashley River. He employed the same lawyer Rhett did in Charleston, Rupert Aubrey. If he could afford to employ Aubrey Jermore must be doing more than all right for himself.

"You're very fond of the plantation aren't you?" asked Rhett, he didn't want to talk but not talking would lead to thinking in general, which would lead to thinking about his marriage, which would end in him thinking about how magnificent it had felt to have Scarlett in his arms warm and willing and how foolish he had been to leave her tonight… talking seemed to be the only rational path.

"It was where I was born, I would not want to have seen it overtaken by decay. It will be good if you can bring it back, maybe someday my son will take your son over to the Landing just as we are now."

Rhett, in addition to respecting the man for what he had built with only the wits in his head and the sweat of his brow, found Jermore's speech patterns amusing for their formalness. Sarah had taught her son to avoid contractions so as to not fall into the speech patterns of the uneducated slaves at the Landing. The lack of contractions and the formalness of Jermore's speech gave him a way of speaking that was seldom heard in conversation.

"I don't have any sons Jermore," said Rhett as he lit a cigar.

"I do not either, but you are closer than me, you have a wife, that is a start."

"Yes," Rhett mused, "that is a start."

One of the crew members called to Jermore and he bowed a little to Rhett. "The captain is never done working."

Rhett nodded politely and returned his gaze to the night sky. A son? By Scarlett? He smiled faintly at the thought of another child. Not another child to replace Bonnie, no there could never be another child like her but perhaps…

No, he thought laughing at his foolish musings. While he had finally come to believe Scarlett's love for him was genuine he wasn't so foolish as to think that her devotion to him would so radically alter her feelings toward children, even if they were his children.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

She sat in a rocking chair on the piazza cradling a blanket wrapped bundle as she gently rocked back and forth humming the words to the Lament. This time was going to be so different. She was going to make this baby the center of her world. She would tell it all about Tara and her parents and the life they had all lived before the war. She would sing songs and compose nonsensical stories. She would finally…

But wait, it? She didn't even know whether her baby was a boy or girl? 'How could I not know?' thought Scarlett. What kind of a mother doesn't remember whether her baby is a boy or a girl? She moved the blankets away only to discover her child was gone!

She sprang from the chair the blankets falling around her feet, but what was that noise? It was her baby, crying. She moved towards the noise when strong arms caught her around the waist and began to pull her backwards, away from the direction of her child's cries. She struggled against the arms that were like bands of steel around her midsection.

Rhett, she had to call for Rhett. He would save her and help her find their baby.

"Rhett," she screamed. "Rhett, please, Rhett!"

"Scarlett, Scarlett wake up."

Scarlett opened her eyes to find Miss Eleanor standing over her shaking her gently. Toby was still baying in his tiny voice alarmed at his mistress's distress and she reached out to cuddle him against her breast. She took a deep breath, just a nightmare. But a nightmare unlike the one she'd been having since the end of the war. It was fading fast now and she could only remember something about a lost child and wanting Rhett to help her find something, the child she supposed.

Miss Eleanor let go of her shoulders and sat next to Scarlett on the bed. "Lord in Heaven child, you took ten years off my life."


	21. rerum cognoscere causas

**_The twists are mine, the characterizations are mine if it doesn't follow the books either Scarlett or Gone With the Wind I'm not Ripley or Mitchell. I write from me, from my experiences and pains. If the story starts to take turns that seem contrived, don't be so sure. We all lead lives that would make an exciting read if we could only let people in. Fan fiction is my way of letting people into my secret self. _**

Scarlett blushed to the roots of her hair. "I'm sorry to have woken you," she apologized.

"No matter," she replied pleasantly, 'I don't sleep very soundly so I was already nearly awake."

"Do you have bad dreams too?" Scarlett asked, curious about the woman she admired and acquainted in her mind with Ellen and Melanie.

"No, nothing like that. But you see when we still lived at the Landing it always seemed that not a night went by without some sort of emergency that required the mistress of the plantation. Now I find that this house is too quiet and I wait for the knocks that no longer come, it makes you feel quite unnecessary to no longer be in such demand."

"I need you," said Scarlett shyly.

She patted Scarlett's hand fondly. "God bless you my dear, I need you too. I'm so glad that Rhett has you. It makes me happy to know that he's happy."

Toby wriggled to be free and Scarlett released him. The puppy jumped off the bed and began to investigate the dark corners of Scarlett's room not illuminated by the moonlight.

Thoughts of women Rhett might have bedded while he wanted a divorce haunted her thoughts. She was sure he loved her, but the part of her that was the eternal pessimist tried to undo the progress they had made only a few hours ago. "Sometimes I'm not certain that he's happy, at least not happy with me."

Miss Eleanor laughed gaily. "Not happy with you? Why Scarlett, my son had mentioned you so many times that I wondered how on earth he let you slip through his grasp to marry your second husband."

"Rhett told you about me? When?"

Miss Eleanor leaned back a little into Scarlett's pillows as she draped an arm around Scarlett's shoulder so that the younger woman could lean her head on Miss Eleanor's shoulder. She could see that Scarlett was still visibly shaken by her nightmare and though she didn't wish to pry she was curious what Rhett had to do with the dream for Scarlett hadn't woken and called for Rhett, she had been calling for him in her dream.

"Miss Eleanor?" asked Scarlett eager to hear about how Rhett had mentioned her to his beloved mother. If that wasn't something a man in love did, then what was?

Miss Eleanor sighed softly remembering the times she had to steal away to see her eldest child because her husband wouldn't allow her to acknowledge Rhett's existence.

"Oh, when I'd slip away to see him while he was blockading during the war. The first few times it was only vague mentions, not by name, but he did mention that he hated the mourning black widows wore because a woman he knew had eyes would look even more brilliant than they already were if she were wearing green or even white." Miss Eleanor laughed gently.

"Later I suppose my rascal of a son must have talked you out of mourning early because he mentioned that he had bought some lengths of green satin and green linen for dresses. I told him that him that he wouldn't make much money on dress lengths, but he told me they weren't for sale at any price, they were a gift." Miss Eleanor smiled kindly, "He is right my dear, you do look beautiful in green."

"I never knew that he spoke of me to you," said Scarlett her voice soft with a hint of regret.

"Rhett's a smart man. He neglected to give you a name because I'm a friend of your aunts and no doubt he knew that I'd deduce that Pauline and Eulaine's niece, Scarlett, who lived in Georgia was also the Scarlett he was so enamored of. After all Scarlett's not a terribly common name and a Scarlett with emerald eyes must certainly be even more rare."

"Rhett keeps his cards close to his vest. When did he finally give me a name?"

Miss Eleanor thought briefly, her son and his wife were both too proud for their own good. If she told Scarlett about Rhett's feelings toward her over the years, would it help or hurt them even more. She pushed past that nagging worry, she would do what she felt was necessary bring them to equal footing.

"I feel as though I'm betraying a confidence but I am going to, for Rhett's own good, and yours as well. Rhett finally gave you a name when he came to visit after his father died. He was distracted and at first I thought it was simply because Stephen died without them ever making peace, but it wasn't that. Not at all. It was because someone, a woman named Scarlett was carrying another man's child. Rhett apologized for not coming sooner but he couldn't leave Atlanta till she was confined to her home. He needed to drive her home from the lumber mill she owned. He told me one night that he was worried about her, that he had let her down once before and that's why she was in the situation she was in."

"Oh," was all Scarlett could say as she felt a wave of embarrassment course through her, staining her cheeks crimson with shame. Of course Miss Eleanor knew about her owning the mills and the store, Scarlett hadn't ever even suspected that Miss Eleanor had known that before she married Rhett she had overseen the running of the mills throughout much of her second pregnancy.

"Oh indeed. I admit I was briefly confused as too how this Scarlett had come to mean so much to him so quickly but then I recalled the woman he had spoken of during the war and realized it was the same person. I asked my son if this woman was a close friend of his and he said no, she was a disease in his blood. He told me bits and pieces which, knowing Rhett as I do I've pieced together what I believe is a fairly accurate perception of the whole story. Rhett has loved you for a good deal longer than you've loved him?"

Realizing it wasn't a rhetorical question Scarlett was tempted to refrain from answering but didn't. "Yes."

"Why did he come here with Bonnie but not you and your other children? It was obvious that he missed you, they both did. " She held up a warning finger, "And don't tell me it was because of your store or your mills. I'm Rhett's mother and I've come to know you, there was something going on, but I could never come to a feasible conclusion."

It was Scarlett's turn to consider her next words. Miss Eleanor seemed to know about most of the decidedly unladylike things she'd done since the end of the war, in all honesty what were a few more skeletons when taken into account against her numerous other misdeeds. "Because he was angry at me over the one time I was completely innocent of wrongdoing."

"Did you have an affair?"

Scarlett pulled away from Miss Eleanor in horror. Did her mother in law think she was little more than an adulteress? "My God, no, never."

Miss Eleanor was nonplussed by Scarlett's horrified exclamation. She spoke casually, looking for a response that would confirm her belief that Scarlett hadn't physically been unfaithful to her son. "That's good to know, I'd heard some piece of gossip about a man in Atlanta that was your business partner, a cousin of the Burrs I believe?" Miss Eleanor said pointedly. She needed Scarlett to be completely honest if she was to help repair the situation between her headstrong daughter in law and her equally stubborn son.

Scarlett's horror dissipated considerably to be replaced by painful shame. "Ashley. My business partner's name is Ashley Wilkes. He was my sister in law's husband, we grew up together." She had never actually gone so far as to become Ashley's mistress but surely in Miss Eleanor's eyes the way she had carried on would be just as bad.

Miss Eleanor nodded thinking to herself, a childhood sweetheart held onto far too long after childhood ended.. "You loved him?"

There was no room for lies now, what had Rhett told her once, the truth shall set ye free, now it was time at last to crack open her secret self filled with her doubts and shames, her defeats and mistakes. "I thought I did."

"You don't love him any longer, do you," asked Miss Eleanor gently.

"No, not for a long, long time, if ever at all."

"Does Rhett know that?"

Scarlett nodded as she twisted a piece of her quilt nervously.

Miss Eleanor took Scarlett's hands and loosed her fingers from the quilt before beginning to speak again. She wanted Scarlett's full attention for the secret she was about to divulge. Scarlett seemed to hurt so badly, she was trying to live up to the example of her mother and considering the scandal that Ellen had left behind in Savannah years ago maybe she needed to know that she wasn't alone in not always being able to live up to society's standards of behavior. To use Ellen as an example though might anger Scarlett, but perhaps another example could be used…

"I…I once loved a man I shouldn't have. I knew that I could never hope to have him for a husband, but I loved him just the same. He was an older man, much older than myself," she looked out of the corner of her eye at Scarlett.

"What was his name?" asked Scarlett curiously.

Knowing that this conversation might help Scarlett chart a clearer course through her relationship with Rhett she whispered the name of a man she had adored but could never have. "Pierre."

"Just like my grandfather Robiliard," laughed Scarlett.

"Not just like."


	22. Even Angels Fall

Scarlett turned her head slowly surely she was dreaming, what Miss Eleanor was saying sounded so absurd.

"My grandfather, you wanted to marry my grandfather? When? Why?"

She couldn't believe what she was hearing, Miss Eleanor and her grandfather. Her grandfather had to be nearly thirty years older than Miss Eleanor. Scarlett, not being a deeply introspective individual didn't realize that there was almost twenty years difference between her and Rhett. When it came to Rhett he was so debonair that she didn't even notice the age difference between them. But Pierre Robiliard? Terrifying in his strict ways and the way he spoke to the O'Hara sisters; barking French phrases screamed at small children who didn't want to visit in the first place.

"What on earth could you have seen in my grandfather that you could love? He is so cold and unyielding. I was terrified of him when I was younger. I use to cry the whole train ride to Savannah when my mother would take us to visit him."

Miss Eleanor was grateful for the dimness of the bedroom, nearly seventy and I'm blushing, she thought with a small smile. But Pierre Robiliard was one of those rare men who would bring blushes to the faded wrinkled cheeks of the woman who knew them in their prime long after he was in the grave. In their memories he was the man who wore his smart blue uniform coat and tight white kidskin breeches to mass and important galas.

"Why is the easiest I suppose, he was handsome and dashing with a moustache and that imperial military bearing. He had this way of looking at a woman, it bordered on impudent but only just, never was he so forward that you could call him to task for it. I was all of sixteen the first time I met him at your Aunt Pauline's debutante ball in Savannah. Your mother wasn't even born yet."

"How did you first meet my Aunts?" asked Scarlett distantly, Miss Eleanor in love with dour Grandfather Robiliard? That simply wasn't possible.

"I knew your Aunts from boarding school and they were frequent guests at my parents home here in Charleston, your Aunt Eulaine nearly married my youngest brother Carey, but he died.

"Is that why she never married?" This was a night for the revelation of secrets! Aunt Eulanie having a beau? A beau that she might have married was news to Scarlett. But more impossible was the thought that Miss Eleanor had feelings for Grandfather Robiliard? Incredible.

"Yes, I suppose so, she wore mourning for years after." Poor Carey, thought Miss Eleanor as she remembered the brother that had been so like her Rhett. Wild, impetuous, and devastatingly handsome; he had loved Eulanie Robiliard for her quiet ways and fragile beauty.

When didn't she continue, Scarlett reached for Miss Eleanor's hand, "You were saying, about my grandfather?"

"Oh Scarlett, if you could have only seen him fifty years ago, he was the very embodiment of the word dashing. The first time your grandfather bent forward to kiss my hand I was smitten. My heart would beat faster just from being in a room with him, but he was married to one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen. There was no way a green girl of sixteen could compete with Solange Vézelay Robiliard. Your grandfather was unavailable."

There was something wrong about what Miss Eleanor was saying. If Ellen hadn't been born yet that would mean that Grandmother Robiliard was alive but then how could Miss Eleanor hope to catch grandfather's eye, what good would it have done her. "If he was married to my grandmother then there was no way you could have hoped to marry him."

Miss Eleanor wished she had never begun this conversation, any wisdom she had hoped to impart to Scarlett was obviously not the wisdom she needed, at least not in the form Miss Eleanor had intended to offer it in. Miss Eleanor often forgot that Scarlett came from Georgia, where rules were archaic rules and ridiculous proprieties were observed at all times. Savannah and Charleston had their own rules but there was always leeway for those who knew where to find it.

Many of the pioneering men and woman who had settled Georgia were decedents of bondsmen or were new to the America's. After establishing their plantations and fortunes they were determined to belong to an aristocracy grounded in rules and practices, which were in fact far more rigid than the lives of the true aristocrats they hoped to emulate

"Scarlett, Charleston and Savannah are different societies from Georgia and Atlanta in particular, indeed from much of the south. They are more European in some beliefs," she shuddered to go further but she wanted to help this beautiful still naïve, in spite of everything, woman find her way in the world of Charleston society.

Scarlett's green eyes narrowed slightly wondering where this conversation could possibly be going. Was she trying to tell her that Rhett might have…No; this clearly was about Miss Eleanor herself and not an analogy for something else. "Which beliefs?"

Miss Eleanor braved her way forward. "Such as in respect to love found outside the marriage bed."

Scarlett's eyes widened in shock. Miss Eleanor, who she had all but canonized in her mind wasn't telling her that she would have been willing to have an affair with Grandfather Robiliard?

No, it was late, she was exhausted and clearly she had misunderstood what Miss Eleanor was trying to say. She must have, to have not misinterpreted her words would break apart the virago she had built Miss Eleanor up to be.

"Why are you telling me this, what purpose could it serve?" asked Scarlett her throat constricting painfully around her words.

Miss Eleanor cleared her throat nervously, she wasn't completely sure just how to put her thoughts into words. "I'm trying to tell you that I wouldn't judge you for having an affair if you had been forced into a loveless marriage by a father hoping to climb in society. I was a young woman once, I know what it is to want someone that you shouldn't."

There were many young beautiful widows that were often friendly with men who were not their husbands as they wished to replace their husband's affections for an evening but not turn themselves over to a new husband who would own them body and soul. It was not at all unheard of in the costal cities of North and South Carolina for a widow of several years and a gentleman to have an assignation for many years all the while entertaining no thoughts of marriage.

Miss Eleanor was unsure of just what exactly had transpired between Scarlett and Ashley Wilkes, perhaps Scarlett had an affair after the death of her first husband and out of familiarity or a certain fondness had continued it through her second marriage. Perhaps even while married to Rhett, although after watching Scarlett fight to reclaim her husband's love that seemed like an unlikely scenario.

She had heard some vague gossip in Atlanta when she'd visited during the time Scarlett had been ill, gossip hinting at the possibility that Scarlett's miscarried child mightn't have belonged to her husband, but instead to another man. Once she had overhead a conversation suggesting that Rhett had been so angry over Scarlett's infidelity that he had pushed her down the stairs. But she knew that couldn't be true, one only had to see the torments of the damned that Rhett had suffered waiting to see if Scarlett would live or die to know that her fall had been a terrible accident.

"Pa would never have forced me to marry a man I didn't love," countered Scarlett angrily. "Furthermore, I did not have an affair with Ashley, or anyone else. I may not have been the best of wives, but even I would never let another man make love to me. For the love of God, I'm Rhett's wife."

Miss Eleanor laid her hands on Scarlett's cheeks and turned her daughter in laws head so that she could look her in the eyes.

"Why did you marry Rhett?"

Scarlett pulled her head away. Various answers came to mind. "Because I wanted to, be-be- because he left me no other choice," she had begun to stutter slightly as she fought back sobs of anguish at being asked to weigh past deeds and the fear of being held accountable by a woman who she wanted desperately to love her and deem worthy of love, "because I was afraid that if I didn't…" she dissolved into tears her head bowed forward her hair making a veil to obscure her features. She wanted to add, because I was afraid I'd lose him but her throat hurt and her head was pounding with the beginnings of a terrible ache

Miss Eleanor pulled Scarlett into her arms and let her cry out her pain. She occasionally made soothing sounds but otherwise said nothing. Finally Scarlett's tears subsided and Miss Eleanor released her before reaching into her wrapper pocket to hand Scarlett a handkerchief.

Scarlett smiled wanly at the thought of yet another Butler offering her a handkerchief.

"Scarlett, you and I aren't so very different. We're women who find a way to survive in the face of disaster. But you're stronger than I am, stronger than Rhett gives you credit for. I was wrong to try and force a confidence from you earlier. I want to help you and Rhett. I only want what's best for him, for you both."

"Did my grandfather know that you loved him?"

"No, I shouldn't think so. If he even noticed me it was as the gauche friend of his daughters. I remember the year after Rhett was born Stephen and I were invited to your mother's christening and your grandfather was so proud. He even suggested to Stephen that his Ellen would be a perfect wife to the Butler heir."

Scarlett collapsed into a fit of helpless giggles in spite of the growing pain in her head. "Miss Eleanor, you shouldn't have told me that. Next time Rhett vexes me, I'll be tempted to point out that he has no right to chastise me, even though he is old enough to be my father…and according to you he nearly was."

This was the resilience of spirit Miss Eleanor so admired in Scarlett. From heartbreak to head held high in mere minutes. "If he takes you over the knee and paddles you, don't be surprised," she replied tartly but with more than a little laughter in her voice. "Ross teased him that when it came to you, he was robbing the cradle. We none of us were entirely sure of how old you really are. Emily thinks you to be about twenty five and Rosemary thought the same."

"And how old do you think I am?" asked Scarlett curiously.

"I think you're as old as you feel," said Miss Eleanor with a smile and a quick wink.

"A neutral answer."

"My own grandmother use to say 'I'm as old as my toes, and a little older than my teeth.' She was so vain that she had a horrible pair of ivory dentures made for her in New York and she would wear them when anyone who wasn't family would come to call, but they were such an ill fit she could hardly speak. Well when she died, the pastor who gave her eulogy was fairly new to Saint Andrews, and he said of her Rose was a rare jewel of a woman who knew how to hold her tongue. Nearly all the mourners had to hold their handkerchiefs to muffle their laughter. Grandmother Rose was a sharp-tongued thing and nearly everyone in the room had been on the receiving end a time or two, except the pastor had never heard her speak because she was terrified that the dentures would slip out of her mouth. Which just goes to show, you can't always trust appearances."

No, you certainly can't, thought Scarlett. She sighed deeply and then spoke softly at first before her voice gained strength as she considered, what was the worst thing that could happen, Miss Eleanor would find her to have faults.

"The reason Rhett was so angry with me that he left with Bonnie was that he thought that Ashley's sister, India, had caught her brother kissing me. But he wasn't. He was only talking about how life had been before the war, about Tara and Twelve Oaks and his parents and my own. I was caught off guard and I allowed myself to look back. I started to cry and Ashley held me, it wasn't anything to do with passion, I wasn't even thinking of him, I was thinking about how different life was then. India and some other people, they told everyone who would listen and even Rhett immediately thought me guilty. I've always thought that he believed I was letting Ashley hold me like a man holds a woman, not as one friend comforting another."

"Have you ever told him the truth about what happened?"

"No, I never had the chance and now? What good would it be, dredging that pain and humiliation back up? Rhett wouldn't believe me and it would only make him angry, if he even cared. I don't think it matters anymore. If he had cared he would have at least given me a chance to tell him that it was all a pack of lies. I think that maybe we've come to a new understanding and I don't want to let the past creep in."

Miss Eleanor got off the bed and gestured for Scarlett to lie back. When she complied Miss Eleanor tucked the covers around her as though she were a small child and not a grown woman of nearly thirty. "I think that just as Rhett underestimates your strength and character I suspect that you underestimate his feelings when it comes to you and the truth. Rhett doesn't like to be lied to. Also, though he pretends not to care about such things as vanity and injured pride he does, deeply. He loves you and I imagine it must have hurt his pride deeply to finally fall in love with a woman and to find that she didn't love him back."

"I love him, I think I must have for years and years, but I don't understand him."

"Don't always think it's so necessary to understand, when it is simply necessary to love. Love my son, tell him why you do and something tells me he'll come around. He wants to, I'm his mother and I can see that clear as day, he'll fight you because of the past but you have to make him see that the past is over and done with."

"Miss Eleanor, tonight feels as though it was all a dream? I don't know what to make of it."

"Then close your eyes and rest, and just remember that none of us is perfect or without traces of sin. You aren't alone, you have me and Emily and I see that you've charmed Rosemary, lately its Scarlett said this or Scarlett thinks that. You are charming everyone left and right. Turn that charm on Rhett and you'll bring him to his knees. I for one think it's about time."

"You sound as though you'd like to see Rhett taken down a peg?"

"Nonsense, I adore Rhett, but that's because I'm his mother. The fact of the matter is he's too handsome for his own good and the woman in me knows that he's sometimes insufferable. Although as his mother I hope you're gentle with my son's heart."

"And as a woman?" asked Scarlett smiling mischievously.

"I hope you cut him down to size, but I'll deny saying that in the cold light of day. Now get some sleep."

"Good night Miss Eleanor, I love you."

"Scarlett, I couldn't love you more if you were my own daughter instead of my daughter in law. You've the heart of a lioness," she grinned deviously, "and the eyes to match. Good night darling."

She closed the door softly behind her leaving Scarlett to puzzle over their conversation and the many paths it had taken. Her mother-in-law, Scarlett decided, was the exact embodiment of a sonnet Ashley had once read to her about a mysterious lady who was in fact a fairy queen who lured men with her beauty to a land of slumber. A riddle, wrapped in a mystery.


	23. ab hinc from here on

**Back again, I re-read SCARLETT while I was at the hospital. Wow, what a train wreck. She had so many good idea that got lost in a sea of potboiler plot lines and a complete GOD IN THE BOX ending. I think from now on if I change things from Scarlett I am going to care even less than I previously did**

In the bright morning sun Rhett sat atop his hunter, Mistletoe, watching the progress of the large gang of men who he had hired to begin the arduous task of draining the rice fields of Dunmore Landing. The majority of the men were black, but there were also white men, mostly Irishmen who were in one way or another connected to his mines. Working with large rakes they ripped out the sand grass, saplings, trash wheat and stunted rice plants that had taken root and thrived in the years the fields had been neglected.

At the end of the day all of the vegetation would be piled high and set aflame. The ashes would then be spread back across the fields. The acidic ashes combined with the heat of the sun would draw salt and moisture to the surface. In a week the ash would be raked once more mixing it with the rich soil below. Then the land would sit for another month before the actual planting would take place. By paying a fair wage Rhett had more then enough men to work the clean up of the field plus a second group to rebuild the dikes and levees that would be used to flood, check, and drain the rice fields.

During the month the field was curing he would continue to employ the men. The peach and apple orchards had survived the ravages of Sherman and Wilcox's armies, however; the trees were inter-grown, the soil lacked aeration, and the branches were overgrown with too much of the plants nutrients going to leaf production and not enough to the yielding of fruit.

As he watched the men working to prepare the fields, he thought longingly of Scarlett. She should be here next to him, perched on her sidesaddle, weighing in her opinions and making suggestions. She was certainly knowledgeable in the area of planting crops and it would have been pleasant to hear her words of encouragement and advice offered in her Georgian drawl which would rise and fall with excitement as she spoke of Tara and planting.

But currently she couldn't sit a horse and that was his fault. He shouldn't have left her last night. It would have been a feeling of unsurpassed bliss to wake up next to her this morning, holding her close. It would have been incredible whether or not he had made love to her. Just to wake up next to her and know that he was welcome in her bed. The work on the fields was progressing at a rapid pace so he had no qualms about returning to the mainland by late afternoon…to see Scarlett.

He could admit it to himself, finally. He wanted to see her. He couldn't say how she had done it but she had changed his mind. Now the idea of a divorce was ludicrous. His waking and dreaming hours were almost completely centered on thoughts or dreams about her. The way she looked at him when he told her she could keep Toby, the look in her eyes when he had told her that he wasn't making any promises based on the kiss they had shared before he left for the Landing. Her eyes were bright with love, she truly loved him and knowing he had her love had him thinking about her constantly once more, a state of being he thought had come to an end when he left her in Atlanta or at least when he had offered her money to leave him while they were on the Launch. Or when…he smiled, how could he have ever told himself that he wouldn't think about her when she left Charleston. Perhaps God truly did move in mysterious ways. If she had left him on the agreed upon date how long could he have left her alone before he had gone to her because he couldn't let her go?

There was still a troubling truth to be faced, she didn't know how he truly felt and he wasn't completely prepared to tell her. He smiled without a trace of his usual sardonic mockery. Just because he hadn't put his feelings into words didn't necessarily guarantee that his renewed love for her was a well-kept secret. She was becoming more intuitive as she grew older; she already knew that he still loved her. Now she was waiting for him to admit it. That should have been last night.

'What was I thinking leaving her last night, I should have told her how I feel, not given her some double talk about doubting her love or not trusting her', thought Rhett.

Of course he didn't trust her, their marriage would become very humdrum indeed if they could start trusting one another to be completely free of duplicity in their dealings with one another. When he had called her a powder keg strapped to his back he had sought to strike a blow at her, but that allusion was also true in a way that wasn't quite so derogatory...

She was often like a powder keg, ready to explode at any moment. If he was being honest with himself, those explosions could sometimes be incredibly entertaining and during the early years of their marriage they could sometimes be the prognostication to incredible bouts of lovemaking.

_It was raining that afternoon when she'd returned from the mill to find him in the library relaxing with the paper in his lap. He had only just extinguished the cigar he'd been enjoying when she swung open the door in a full tilt fit of fury._

"_You! You utter bastard," she cried angrily. _

_The rain that had been falling steadily for the last two days had kept her from the mill and she had paced the house like a caged lioness. At least fifty times a day she'd move the heavy drapes to peer at the gloomy world on the other side of the window panes._

_He had forbidden her to go to the mills in such a deluge because of the damp chill in the air. While fully dressed she wasn't showing yet but he knew just as she did that that could change in a matter of days. Every minute she spent away from the mills…and Ashley Wilkes was a moment that wouldn't come again until after she bore their child.  
_

_He pretended to finish the page he had been skimming before looking up at her. Ignoring her insult he looked at her with an indulgent smile. "Shall I ring for Mammy, you really should change before you catch pneumonia."_

_Her eyes narrowed in her rose tinged face. "Was that your idea of a joke or were you being deliberately cruel?"_

_With an air of injury at being thought to be cruel he inquired of her in a polite tone of voice just what was so cruel about wanting a pregnant woman who was also his wife in dry clothes on such a miserable, rainy day._

_She bristled and closed the door behind her before coming into the warm room. He had to suppress a smile as she positioned herself near the fire. Just because she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of telling her what to do didn't mean she planned on remaining cold and wet. Silently he applauded her obstinacy. His wife was a fascinating woman who he had been enjoying getting to know on a more intimate level since their wedding the year before. Until she had learned she was pregnant with their child. Since then the hunted panicked look had returned to her eyes and not knowing what to say to banish it he had chosen the high road of saying nothing. Now though, seeing her look so stricken by his perceived betrayal he wasn't so sure of the infallibility of his decision. _

"_You think you own me don't you," she said her voice low and laced with fury, she glared at him before lifting her hand with it's gold wedding band, "you think you bought me with this ring," she gestured expansively, "with this house."_

_He was becoming annoyed with her, her anger was completely without merit and her dramatics were only serving to further irritate him. He smirked and replied smoothly, his Charleston drawl evident in every syllable "Don't be ridiculous, I think nothing of the sort. After all I could have bought you for three hundred dollars if memory serves me correctly."_

_She gapped at him, horrified that he would bring up such a thing especially now when she was carrying a child, their child. She swayed for a moment, unsteady on her feet. He was at her side before she'd even realized that he had left his chair._

"_Scarlett?" he asked his voice serious now without its customary edge of mockery._

"_Of all the things that I've ever done how could you bring that up?" she whispered softly. The dampness of her clothes caused her to shiver and he mistook her shaking for emotion at his cutting remark._

"_I shouldn't have," agreed Rhett before lifting her into his arms._

_She didn't resist, instead she clung to his neck and allowed him to carry her to their bedroom. Gently he set her on the bed and kneeling before her he removed her waterlogged boots. _

"_Better?" he asked._

"_Much," she replied hesitantly, suspicious of his sudden consideration of her comfort but she was so drained from her long day and the toil her pregnancy was taking on her body that she was reluctant to try and stoke the dying embers of her anger at him._

"_You're angry with me?" he asked as he stood and then without waiting for her response he gently began to unbutton the dozens of jet buttons running down the back of her dress._

_Not trusting her voice she nodded._

"_I'm sorry, I know you might not believe that, but I am. I shouldn't have brought up something that you'd like to pretend never happened." He knew that wasn't why she was really angry but it gave her an opening to air her grievances with him._

"_That isn't why I'm angry." She took a deep breath as he began to undo the hook and eyes on the back of her corset. The corset she was wearing only hooked up the back because of her rounding stomach. She could no longer bear to be laced into a rigid whalebone cage for a whole day. The back fastening corset she wore now gave her some support and helped conceal the advancement of her pregnancy but she knew that Rhett disapproved immensely of her wearing any sort of corset in her condition._

"_About the carriage then?"_

"_Yes, you had no right…"_

_He helped her stand and her gown and the corset slid down her body to pool at her feet. She took his outstretched hand and stepped out of her still damp dress. She was clad now only in her stockings and chemise. The fine cambric molded to her breasts and growing stomach and he could feel the first stirrings of lust for her in the tightening of his groin. _

_Keeping his voice free of passion wasn't easy but he did so albeit reluctantly. Half of their problems, he surmised ruefully, could be solved if they spent less time talking or rather bickering and more time making love. _

"_I had every right. I asked you not to go to the mills till the weather cleared. You told me that you wouldn't. You broke your word to me so I acted accordingly."_

"_You had me picked up from a job site like a naughty child who refuses to leave a playmates house to go home for dinner. My client and the master builder laughed at me. Oh, they tried to hide it, but they were", she informed him indignantly. _

"_You haven't cared what anyone's thought of you in a long time, are you planning on starting to again?"_

_She sat on the bed and after pulling her chemise up slightly she rolled down her leg the garter that held up first one stocking then the other. Her hair fell forward in a black silken veil, slightly curling, as it dried in the warmth of their bedroom. She presented such an erotic picture that before he could stop himself he bent forward and kissed the back of her neck. She gasped in surprise but made no move to sit up straight._

_He sat next to her and she brought her head up as she turned to face him. He reached out his hand and stroked her cheek. "You embarrassed me today," she said softly._

_He curved his other hand around her hip and drew her close. "I refuse to apologize for not wanting my wife to dicker in the rain for a lumber contract. If I've cost you business today I'll buy the damned lumber."_

_That drew a smile and a laugh, a real laugh that sounded so much like the carefree girl he'd first observed at Twelve Oaks. "What would you do with enough lumber to build a house? _

"_That would be for me to know and you to find out miss curious."_

"_What if I asked nicely, would you tell me then?" she asked playfully._

"_No. I'd leave you in suspense."_

"_What if I begged?" she asked as she lowered her lashes coyly._

"_Ah, that's different, I can't deny you anything, isn't this house proof enough of that." He leaned forward and kissed her. For a moment she was still. She didn't pull away, but she didn't return his kiss. Just as his was about to pull away she tentatively wrapped her arms around his neck._

_Later that night in the darkness of their bedroom she was the one to kiss him first and he reciprocated joyfully. It was one of those rare times she initiated lovemaking and he was more than happy to oblige._

His horse moved beneath him, the hunter was young and not accustom to standing still for such a long period of time. He patted the horse's neck absently to calm it. He was still lost in memories of that night when she had kissed him gently on the mouth after she'd whispered "Are you still awake?"

'What was I thinking then? The world wouldn't have ended if I had at least confessed to care for her as more than a pet kept for amusement.' His heart cried out the question so many people wonder at some point in their lives. 'Why didn't I know then what I know now?'

What if this evening when they were together again he told her that he was ready to spend the rest of his life with her? Spend the rest of his life seeing her face, hearing her voice, and touching her. God he ached to hold her and kiss her. He wanted to feel her heartbeat beneath his lips as he blazed trails of kisses down her throat towards…

"Cap'in Butler?"

Rhett looked down to find Everett Bailey looking up at him. Everett Bailey had been one of his late father's most prized possessions. Everett had been the Landing's expert on the levee system that made the flooding of the rice fields possible.

"Mr. Bailey?" said Rhett addressing him as he would another white man rather than calling him by his first name to show him how much he appreciated Everett coming back to work at the Landing on what was terribly short notice.

Everett Bailey's voice was a voice that commended attention and it was a pleasant voice in the bargain, the melodious blend of the darkies' way of dropping the ends of words combined with the low land drawl of his former owners. "We have anotha three hours here in the fields before the burn, you gonna stay for tha fire?"

"I'm afraid I won't be able to stay, I have a prior commitment on the mainland. I will gather the men before I depart. I have their bonuses and I'd like to find at least one more crew to start reclaiming the gardens and the pond."

"This must be costing you a fortune Cap'in Butler."

"It is, but it will be worth it to see the Landing look as though it did before the war."

Everett Bailey looked out toward the gang of sweating, straining men. The white faces were little more than grains of salt in a pepper pot but they were there working along side the blacks. They were one body of working men, equality in sweat.

"It ain't never gonna be like before the war Cap'in," said Everett softly.

Rhett following his gaze nodded before speaking. "It is extremely gratifying to know that no man's blood will ever be drawn by a man working in my name. Those days are gone from the Landing, for good."

"Your father wouldn't 've thought that was sucha good thing. You a good man Cap'in, that's why I come when that man you send asked me to."

"Mr. Bailey, I will be eternally grateful. No one else knows the schematics of the Landing's rice fields like you do. It would have taken a newcomer at least two months to familiarize himself with the lay of the land and it's river access. I would have missed the planting season altogether."

"You wait, if the weather holds with us we'll be planting by June."

"That is very welcome news. Mr. Bailey, you have everything you need?"

"I do Cap'in. I'm about to call break, if you want tha men gathered we can do it now so you can leave." His worn black face became concerned and he again glanced out at the busy men. "I heard your wife was sick, I'm sorry."

"She's getting better, thank you. Incidentally, who said she was sick?"

"Carlen,Mrs .Butler's cook is my Abigail's niece. She had us over for dinner on Sunday she said the younger Mrs .Butler had just come back from the hospital. I hope I didn't overstep, I didn't mean no disrespect, just I know how it is to have a sick wife who needs you."

"I apologize, I didn't mean to sound so defensive. I just know that my wife wouldn't want to be the topic of gossip regarding her health."

"I won't say nothin to no one else about her being sick Cap'in."

"Thank you."

Mr. Bailey nodded before heading back to the gang of men.


	24. Dum spiro, spero while I breath I hope

A woman's voice called Rhett's name as he watched Everett Bailey speaking to the assembling men. He turned in the direction of the voice to find Julia Ashley, astride Cannonball, her dappled gray mare. Bucking convention she was astride, her skirt was cut generously to preserve her modesty.

No one else could have gotten away with so blatantly disregarding propriety but Charleston accepted Julia Ashley's quirks because she was Charleston. The Ashley River was named for her family as was the Cooper River and though she never directly brought it up her family had lived in the area long before there was a United States let along a city called Charleston. When her family had landed in the Americas the area where the city would one day thrive was still an unsettled wilderness.

After Charles II of England was restored to the English throne, he granted the Carolina territory to eight of his loyal friends, known as the Lords Proprietor, in 1663. It took seven years before the Lords built the first settlement, christening it Charles Town in honor of their monarch and benefactor. The town was later re-established in 1670 across the Ashley River.

Charles Towne was chosen by Anthony Ashley-Cooper, one of the Lords Proprietor, to become a "great port towne", a destiny which the city fulfilled. A destiny which Julia Ashley's family had primarily engineered.

Where Ashley Plantation now stood was once the site of the original Charles Towne settlement. Though Lord Ashley-Cooper had claimed that moving the original settlement was done for the good of the town it was common knowledge that he had fallen in love with the view from the edge of the property that became Ashley Plantation. As Lord Governor he ordered the town to be moved across the river on some groundless premise. Because he was sanctified by the king the other settlers had no chose but to comply by moving the town across the river.

Rhett's father had once jested to Miss Eleanor that unless they could find an Ashley cousin for Julia she'd never marry. She was an Ashley, if she married anyone who wasn't an Ashley or at the very least one of the direct descendants of the Lords Proprietor their peasant blood would taint her own noble pedigree. Now though she was one of the last of the Ashley's with no sons to follow her and her brothers long in their graves. Her brothers had only fathered a crop of daughters which were useless in regards to keeping the Ashley name alive.

Rhett respected Julia Ashley. She was an original and her own mistress. She was sharp as a tack and underneath her caustic comments was a thread of good humor and sage advice that Rhett found endearing. He'd known her all of his life and just seeing her astride her horse evoked a pleasant thrill of nostalgia in his breast.

"Good morning Miss Julia. Have you come here just to see me or are you out for a ride?" he teased her with a smile.

"I came to see you, I'm far too old to just traipse about the countryside willy-nilly whenever the spirit moves me."

Though in her mid 70's, Julia Ashley was still a handsome woman. She was tall for a woman with none of the stooped shoulders or hunched posture that plagued many older people. His mother often said of Julia Ashley, "Julia decided that she'd grow no older than sixty and that's just what she did." Rhett could recall being about thirteen and believing Julia Ashley to be one of the most beautiful women in the world. The years had been more than kind to her. Even now she was still striking.

Her hazel eyes twinkled beneath her finely arched brows that were perfectly set on the skin covering the orbital ridge, the bony ridge of skull beneath the eyebrows. Her eyelids were heavy and called to mind a cobras lazy stare just before it would strike without provocation. The Cooper chin rounded and soft indicated a more cooperative spirit than the one that Julia in actuality possessed. Many people over the years had mistaken Julia's soft chin as evidence of a permissive and willing to give in attitude. There were sorely mistaken as they soon discovered.

Her most handsome feature was her hair. Julia's white hair was purely white without a streak of gray. Today it was caught back in a series of elegant twisted loops gathered at the base of her skull. On her head was a cherry red Jeb Stuart hat, she had inserted in the brim one long feather and it's curling end just stopped short of brushing her wrinkled cheek.

"How did you know I was here?"

"It's all anyone can talk about, how you're bringing back the Landing to its former glory. I heard you're employing over a hundred men. Very impressive indeed."

He swept off his hat and bowed gallantly from his waist even while keeping his seat on Mistletoe. "Then my life's goal is realized at last, I've impressed the formidable Julia Ashley."

She rolled her eyes pointedly. "Nonsense. I'm not a bit impressed with you pouring money into this place. I'll be more impressed when I see the results of your own sweat. How are the gardens coming?"

Rhett wasn't stung by her implication that his money was nothing compared to work done with one's own hands. Julia was Julia and he loved her for her consistency. "Slowly but surely. The Camellias came along spectacularly and the kitchen garden is under control, which is saying something considering its condition this time last year. The orchards are the planned project for the fallow month and I'll have the grape and rose arbors repaired then if there's time."

"You sound like a man with a mission." She smiled slightly. "Like a man hoping to bring a bride home. How is Scarlett by the by?"

Rhett laughed heartily, "You're too sharp for my own good. She's holding her own. It will be a long time till she's fully recovered but Doctor Cross believes that she'll be one her feet again by the end of next week."

"Jason Cross?" One white eyebrow lifted with surprise.

"Jason Cross," agreed Rhett with a shrug as if to say the subject wasn't one for discussion.

"How lucky you are that he deigned to treat a Butler. Is Rosemary still sweet on him?"

Rhett laughed uproariously. "I believe that for once you're mistaken Miss Julia if you mean my sister Rosemary. Rosemary is a confirmed bachelor." He smiled at her raised eyebrow at the use of the word bachelor to describe a woman. "I prefer bachelor to spinster, the word spinster conjures the image of a woman unable to catch a man. Certainly that isn't Rosemary, she could have married but she simply prefers her independence."

"There are none so blind as those who refuse to see. Your sister spent all of the season hugger-muggeredly tracking Jason Cross's every move. I know there's bad blood between your families but he is a handsome devil and he's very well off. Your sister could do worse."

"She isn't doing anything. My sister would never entertain even the idea of allowing a Cross to court her. I'd have to be cold and dead first to even consider the thought of a Butler marrying a Cross? And even if I were dead Ross would never allow it. I have a quotation for you, those who do not learn from history…"

"Will be just as surprised the second time around," she quipped quickly. "Rhett Butler, you are letting ghosts run your life. What do you have against the man besides his being a Cross?"

"That isn't enough? I killed the man's brother."

"Self defense isn't any kind of killing in my book."

Rhett's face clouded. During the past weeks he had thought more about the Cross's than he had in the past thirty years. "And what about Virginia Cross? I ruined her, she may have been a silly witless girl but did she deserve the life I left her to here in Charleston? She never married because no man would have her. No matter what I think of the family, she was a Cross. She should have been able to pick and choose from a gaggle of eligible beaus but the scandal hung on her like cheap perfume, polluting the air around her."

Julia reached up to move the feather trimming her riding hat off of her wrinkled cheek. "Virginia was a fool and her brother was a hot tempered coward. You think no one's never heard talk of what really happened during that duel? You had a Dea there, not one member of that family has ever been able to go without gossiping; the men are just as bad as the women when it comes to spreading a tale."

"That's in the past and that's where I'd like to keep it. I wish that Rosemary hadn't asked Doctor Cross to treat Scarlett and when she's recovered that man will never set foot in my house again."

"Thought it was your mother's house," commented Julia politely.

"My house or mother's that makes no difference, what makes the difference is that I am head of the family and that makes me Rosemary's legal guardian. She cannot marry without my permission and I'd see her married to Lucifer himself before Jason Cross."

"I've known you since you were in short pants, frankly I think you're being ridiculous. If Rosemary loves him…"

"Loves him? You've gone from like to love, do you know something I don't?" His words were polite but his eyes were boring into hers demanding information if she had it.

However it would take more than Rhett's hostile glare to unnerve Julia Ashley. "No I don't. I don't even know for certain that she has any feelings for him. I was only speaking of what I thought I saw. I suppose she might not have any feelings for him."

"I'm sure she doesn't. Rosemary and I don't keep secrets. If she had feelings for Jason Cross she would have come to me by now."

"Then if you're sure I'm obviously mistaken. I apologize for riling you up."

Rhett smiled graciously. "An apology to add to your earlier praise. I'll have to be sure to record this in my journal tonight so I'll have this moment to bask in later."

Julia laughed. "You are fresh Rhett Butler. Come over to Ashley Plantation with me, I have something for you to take back to Scarlett."

"That's kind of you."

"Kind, bah. I only want the pleasure of a handsome man riding besides me. You are a handsome devil yourself Rhett Butler."

"Thank you ma'am." He tipped his hat to her.

"You're welcome, shall we race to Ashley Plantation?"

"I…"

She whipped her horse forward before he could agree. Laughing at the antics of the much older woman he spurred his own horse forward without letting him have the head. She won their race by more than a few yards.

"You let me win," she chastised.

"Prove it," he replied grinning, his teeth white in his tanned face.

"Never, it makes me giddy to think that I can still leave a young buck like you in the dust."

He slid down from his horse and crossing to Cannonball he offered her his hand and she took it with a smile.

When she was one the ground he bowed and kissed the back of her hand lightly. "I live to serve."

"Scarlett's lucky that I'm not thirty years or so younger, I'd give her a run for her money," her tart words were softened by her teasing smile.

"That is a race you'd lose Miss Julia." He smiled fondly and Miss Julia could see the happiness that rushed to his features at just hearing Scarlett's name.

"So her campaign was a success. Good for her."

"Campaign," said Rhett with a coy smile. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Don't play the innocent with me, it's a role you are ill suited for. I saw you with her just before New Year's don't forget. She only had eyes for you and you looked everywhere but at her. It was sad. I don't often feel empathy for just anyone. I believe that most people make their own messes, but that girl was here trying to clean up after herself, which is far more than most people do."

Julia Ashley was a wise old soul and it didn't humble his pride to agree with her praise of Scarlett. "It was brave of her to come to Charleston. To come to me when she knew I'd be angry and hostile."

"Rhett Butler, hostile? You'd never convince me of that eventuality. In spite of her hoyden behavior during the season and that general air of recklessness that one can sense for all her lady like pretenses, I admire her. She has the kind of vitality that Charleston needs, that the south needs. What you need to do is give her a baby before she sees you for the blackguard you are and runs back to Atlanta just as fast as her kidskin boots with carry her."

His face was serious now and Julia's heart went out to him. She would never tell him but she felt a great deal of sympathy for Rhett as well. He so wanted to be constantly sarcastic and aloof but beneath that there was a genuine gentleman. It must be difficult to be at constant war with two halves of your one true self.

"You are a font of good advice Miss Julia, but I'll ask you to keep that last piece to yourself. Scarlett and I had a daughter, you remember her, Bonnie."

"Of course I remember her, I'm not senile yet. You should mourn that precious girl, but don't let your heart go to the great reward with her. Where she's gone is so far removed from all of this. You're alive, so is Scarlett. You two are mending fences, why not mend your hearts while you're at it."

"We've never talked about having another child and I don't suppose we ever will."

"Babies seldom wait to be invited."

Drawing his pocket watch from his pocket he saw the perfect excuse to take his leave. The men must be on lunch by now and he wanted to speak to them so he could head back to the Battery. "I'll bear that in mind, you said you had something for me to take back to Scarlett?"

"You don't fool me for a second, I just want you to know that. I do indeed have something for Scarlett. Wait here."

Miss Julia walked across the wide expanse of lawn disappearing to the left of the plantation house. Rhett rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. Miss Julia Ashley was a rule onto herself. She said what she wanted when she wanted to. That sort of candor was amusing only when it was directed at anyone but yourself.

Could she be right about Rosemary and Doctor Cross? He slowly turned over every time the two of them had been in the same room together but with a feeling of relief he could find no incidences to arouse the tiniest bit of suspicion. Miss Julia had only been trying him to provoke an explosion on his part out of sheer mischief.

Their second conversation on the other hand did bear further examination. Bonnie was gone and where she was now he presently could not follow. He wasn't ready to die just yet and he was coming to terms with the fact that Bonnie loved him and would want him to live for both of them. His and Scarlett's second child had been dead long before it would have been time for it to draw its first breath. He had nearly lost Scarlett in the process. Another child, maybe someday but not now. No, not for some time. Her health was fragile and how could he ask her if she would want a child, their child, when she couldn't even walk. But perhaps if they could weather this storm there could be…a future for them, together.

He was a hairs breath from confessing his love to Scarlett. He wanted to wait till she was well. If he told her now it might seem too much like pity. She would never accept words of love from him if she thought them to be tainted by pity. They'd come too far to risk that kind of misunderstanding. His idea to court her for now was sound. It was more than sound it was inspired. Had he ever really courted her and let her know it? No. Now they had time. All the time in the world.

She was his wife so there was no fear that for some reason or another she'd marry on impulse. Her married to anyone else but him? The idea was so repugnant that his hands balled into tight fists. The thought of another man's rings on her slender fingers or another man smug with pride at the sight of other men coveting her with barely concealed longing as she moved gracefully across a dance floor cause fury to gnaw at him. She had been right years ago when she had hurled the accusation at him that he had bought her with his rings on her finger. Damn right he had. She was his. No man would ever take her from him.

Suppose he had been so foolish as to divorce her, what then. He would have come to his senses eventually but would she have waited for eventually? No, she would have charged into some situation or another with a headlong reckless abandonment of common sense.

He couldn't believe that he'd almost set her adrift in the world and while he was at it he'd nearly given her money and property that would have been in total worth over a half million dollars. Who knows what kind of fortune hunter might have tried to seduce her. Scarlett was shrewd; he had no doubts that on her own she would have made her way in the world, but she would have also been terribly vulnerable and a fortune combined with injured pride and hurt feelings could have been her undoing.

But now she was safe. He would always keep her safe. If it ever proved necessary he would lay down his life for hers. The day was warm but an involuntary shiver ran through him causing his shoulders to rise for a moment. What was his great-grandmother Rose's expression, 'A goose just walked over my grave.' Yes, that was just what he had felt for a moment. Like something had walked over his grave.

He might have given his feeling of unease further contemplation had Miss Julia not appeared around the corner of the house once more bearing a large cone of brown paper. She reached him and offered it to him ever bit as reverently as a mother would offer a newborn to a dotting family member. To see her act thusly impressed upon him just how much she valued the contents of the paper parcel.

He took it gently and a sweet smell rose from the package. She had folded the top of the paper down and fastened it with pins so he could only say that what he was holding was a package of some sort of flowers but not what kind.

"They're daffodils, Amaryllidaceae Narcissus." Julia smiled smugly. "This particular breed is a brand new one I bought over from Holland two years ago. Last fall I was able to split the bulbs, they're in bloom now, would you like to see?'

Rhett smiled graciously. Admiring her new flowers and praising Julia Ashley's skill at gardening was a far less poignant topic for conversation than his marriage or his lost children. "Of course, then I have to return to the Landing, I have to speak to the men before I leave for the day."

Together they crossed the wide slightly spongy lawn and turned the corner of Ashley House. Rhett had expected the bulbs to be planted in the numerous flowerbeds or in her large green house but there was unexpectedly a lawn of golden nodding blooms.

The daffodils stood at least 18 inches high, waving gently in the late spring breeze. There had to be hundreds of them their golden faces with pale salmon colored coronas tilted upward slightly as though God had formed them to bask in the sun.

For a time Rhett couldn't speak. The sight of the hundreds of blooms before him was awe-inspiring. To have them planted across the lawn instead of rigidly landscaped into carefully laid out beds gave the blooms the appearance of growing wild and unfettered by human planning.

They stood next to one another, two highly sarcastic people moved by beauty. The trembling blooms were hypnotic in their movements and Rhett felt a peace descend on him that he was unaccustomed to feeling.

Miss Julia spoke first, breaking the spell. "Those bulbs will bloom long after I'm gone. They are my contribution to Ashley Plantation. Edgar Parker Ashley designed the summerhouse, he designed most of King Street, did you know that? My father design the cupolas and my own mother Libby Elsworth Ashley embroidered the tapestry of the laying of the keystone of Ashley House that hangs in the library. When I'm gone, who will come next Rhett?"

"I've asked myself the very same question Julia." He was so caught up in thought that for the first time in his life Rhett didn't add the Miss. "What are they called, your daffodils?'

A smug smile warmed Julia Ashley's features. "They're called Fidelity, what else could be a more perfect way to say I was once here. Fidelity is a notion, that at its most abstract level implies a truthful connection to a source. The word originally meant loyalty and attentiveness to one's duty to a lord or a king. I never married because in my heart I believed that to be an Ashley, to live here at Ashley Plantation was my duty. During the War when I told those damned Yankees that they'd have to burn the house over my head it wasn't bravado. I would have had this house as my pyre. I've thought for years about what I would add to this place as my mark. I could never seem to find just the right thing but then two years ago a close friend went abroad and brought me back some tulip bulbs and a daffodil bulb from Holland. I planted them in the greenhouse and one of the bulbs put forth the most beautiful bloom I'd ever seen. It was the daffodil and when I looked on the sheet of paper where Harland, my friend, had written the names of the genus I found what I'd been searching for, Fidelity."

"Miss Julia, they're exquisite."

Julia laughed gently. "Oh for the love of Saint Peter, I've known you since you were a babe in arms. You're nearly fifty, call me Julia if you like."

Rhett grinned. "If you're sure."

'I wouldn't have offered if I weren't." She gestured dismissively, her voice turning brusque, embarrassed by showing this side of herself to another person,"Go on, take those home to Scarlett. Be care not to squash the package, they're fairly hardy but still I wouldn't want you to present her with a bunch of bruised flowers. I hope she likes them."

"I'm sure she will."

Julia held the paper parcel while Rhett swung himself up into the saddle. When he was settled she handed him the package and he cradled it in his arm. "Goodbye Julia."

She smiled up at him as she tilted her hat forward slightly to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun. "Goodbye Rhett. Tell your mother I'll have her and Rosemary to tea soon."

"And what about Scarlett?" he asked curiously.

"And what about Scarlett indeed. She's welcome to come, provided you're willing to let her out of your sight for more than a few minutes at a time when she's up and about." She smirked. "You need a mirror my fine fellow, every time I mention her name you all but glow."

He didn't dignify her observation with a response he only bowed forward in the saddle before nudging the horse into a cantor.

Julia watched him become a small figure in the distance before she went back to her gardens. There was a piece of one of the psalms that meandered idly through her mind as she transplanted seedlings into a flowerbed.It made her think of Rhett and Scarlett and she knew that they'd both be amused if they were to ever learn she'd equated a biblical verse to their struggles to reclaim their life together. The beauty of those timeless words kept her company as no human being could. If she concentrated she could recall the whole verse,

_Thou holdest mine eyes watching, I am so troubled that I cannot speak. I have considered the days of old. The years of past times. I call to remembrance my song in the night. I commune with mine own heart; and my spirit maketh diligent search. Will the Lord cast me off forever; will he be favorable no more? Is his loving kindness gone forever? Doth his promise fail for evermore? Hath God forgotten to be gracious? Hath he in anger shut up his tender mercies? And I said, This is my anguish But I will remember the years of the right hand of the Most High. I will make mention of the deeds of the Lord for I will remember thy wonders of old. I will meditate also upon all thy work, And muse on thy doings._

She smirked as she continued to work. Rhett was mediating all right, mediating on his pretty wife who he had nearly let get away. If she was any judge of a person's intentions and if 70 years on earth had done nothing else it had honed her instincts when it came to people, Rhett was going to finally meet Scarlett's efforts to reclaim him. Good for her, she thought with a grin.

Scarlett fascinated her and as Miss Julia patted the earth down around a clump of bleeding heart she made a personal vow to extend herself on Scarlett's behalf. As Sally Brewton's protégé numerous doors had been politely opened for Scarlett but as the protégé of the last Ashley of Ashley Plantation, Scarlett would be avidly sought after and welcomed with open arms by everyone who was anyone in the state of South Carolina.


	25. maxima positio a great proposition

**So I was reading GWTW last week at the hospital and there is a part where John Wilkes kisses Scarlett when he is leaving for war. I found that the inspiration for this chapter... also chess...lol I am getting damn good soon I will kick someone's ass...then I will play a game of chess :D **

Rosemary rested her fingertips on one of her black pawns and bit her bottom lip thoughtfully. The Pawn couldn't advance on the column because it is blocked by one of Scarlett's White Knights and it couldn't capture on the left diagonal because the square was empty.

"And you say you've never played Chess before?" asked Rosemary as she weighed her moves. There weren't many available and Rosemary sighed before moving one of her bishops instead.

After enjoying a leisurely breakfast the sister in laws had searched for something they could do to pass the time. Scarlett wanted to work on the Rhett's books after lunch but otherwise the day loomed empty for her with him at the Landing and the children not arriving till the next day. It was then that Rosemary suggested teaching Scarlett how to play chess.

"I have a beautiful board, Rhett bought it in England years ago. I could teach you as we play, you have a very analytical mind, and I really think you might enjoy chess."

Scarlett laid her fork down on the plate of eggs that she had barely touched. Rosemary, having never been a parent, never noticed whether or not she was eating. Lately she had just been too nauseated by the pain in her legs and hips to eat. Every time she would move the wrong way pain and unpleasant tingling would cause her breath to catch in her throat.

Last night after Miss Eleanor had left her she had tried to practice getting out of bed. Rhett had almost made love to her last night, whether she was sick or not and the infamous Butler resolve could only hold him in good stead for so long. She had to get back on her own two feet, for him. A crimson flush colored her cheeks. By her estimation it had been nearly three years since she and Rhett had made love, in a bed anyway. Had it really been only two weeks since Rhett had made love to her on the beach after their accident? His mouth on hers, the way she could feel drops of rain on her skin as the wind picked up blowing a smattering of rain into their shelter, his voice calling her name and begging her to open her eyes …calling her his life, his love, darling over and over.

Her mouth opened slightly as she sucked in a startled breath. She had remembered him telling her at the cottage that he didn't want her, that what they had done was a mistake, that he only used her body. But now as she searched her memory, desperate to remember his words, she could hear his voice, there was a terrible fearful tone in it as he called her name and called her his life. He truly did love her. Even though he had said earlier that evening after he kissed her that he was unsure of whether or not he could love her again, he did. He had told her as recently as two weeks ago.

Now with real purpose she would push herself forward till she could walk again. It had taken forever just to manage to get her feet on the floor. When she stood a wave of dizziness crashed over her causing her to close her eyes in pain. She rested her palms on the featherbed and willed herself to stand up straight. Rhett wouldn't want an invalid as a wife. She couldn't simply put herself into Doctor Cross's hands and allow him to take complete control of his recovery. He was use to treating faint-hearted fragile ladies, not an O'Hara. He didn't realize that he could push her harder than he normally would push one of the china doll fragile ladies in his care. She wouldn't hobble around on a cane for months like a crone in a child's fairy tale, if she had to push herself she would walk and sooner than anyone imagined.

Bringing her attention back to Rosemary's eager face Scarlett feigned a shrug of disinterest. "Chess? I don't know Rosemary. I thought chess was a game for intellectuals?"

"Please, I could teach you and maybe," she suggested slyly, "you could play with Rhett, he loves it. He was the one who taught Ross to play. Then Ross taught me, although we stopped playing once I started winning."

Wearing the same expression a Christian martyr might wear while being led to the lions, Scarlett sighed. "Fine, if it will make you happy, I'll try and learn from you."

Rosemary sprang up and hurried to her room to locate the chess set. She figured she better hurry before Scarlett changed her mind. It would be nice if Scarlett took to chess, she would love to have someone to play regularly with.

Scarlett picked up Toby as he tried to scramble back onto the bed. She placed him on her lap and rubbed his silky ear between her thumb and pointer finger, appreciating the soft downy quality of his fur.

She hadn't played chess since she was sixteen, but the rules were still firmly entrenched in her memory.

John Wilkes of all people had taught her to play chess during the fall she was sixteen. Ashley had been on an extended visit with his father's family in Virginia, Honey had been at finishing school and India had gone to stay with a cousin of her mothers, a Burr, if Scarlett remembered correctly.

She had been lonely in a way that she couldn't ever recall having been before. Everything seemed out of sorts that fall. Her heart ached for Ashley. She had finished her education the year before and now to be home without Suellen to annoy was draining some of the vitality from her spirit.

She took long rides, trying to alleviate the nervous energy that consumed her, but that didn't work. But something did come from those rides, one afternoon on the dusty road that ran along the front of several plantations she came upon John Wilkes. He chastised her gently for riding without a groom and elected to escort her back to Tara. They rode along making genial small talk. Under normal circumstances Scarlett would have only given him a polite greeting and continued her ride but when he said that Ashley had enclosed a small gift for her in his last parcel from Virginia she found herself wanting to somehow integrate herself with John Wilkes. She wanted him to see her as an excellent choice as a wife for Ashley.

He asked her why she looked so sad and while she denied being sad she found herself talking about her feelings of being unsettled. It was then that John Wilkes spontaneously offered to teach her chess.

Initially she made some neutral comment about that sounding interesting but she didn't think that she would understand such a complicated game.

He looked sad at her polite refusal and told her that he missed playing with Ashley.

That immediately sparked her interest.

"Does Ashley play chess Mister Wilkes?" she asked trying to sound as though her interest was nothing more than polite inquiry. If Ashley played then of course she would do everything she could to learn.

"Ashley learned to play years ago. He is very good, but unimaginative when it comes to strategy."

"Do you think I could learn," she asked, suddenly shy of John Wilkes. She harbored hope within her heart that some day this man would be her father in law. Honey and India would marry their cousins and go off to set up their own households and Scarlett would reign as mistress supreme of Twelve Oaks. Her parents would be right across the creek at Tara and she could see Ellen everyday. Life would be perfect.

John Wilkes rode with her back to Tara and after talking to Gerald about politics and the harvest he broached the possibility of teaching Scarlett chess with Mammy there to chaperon. Though John was nearly three times Scarlett's age he was a wealthy widower and it wouldn't look right for him to entertain Scarlett without a chaperon.

Gerald dismissed it out of hand. "Tis kind of you to offer John, but my puss wouldn't have the head for chess I'm thinking."

It was Ellen who turned to her husband and spoke in her usual soft dignified manner. "Mr. O'Hara I think it would be wonderful if Scarlett could learn to play chess. My sisters and I all played when I still lived in Savannah. If Scarlett learned it would be nice for me to have someone to play against on occasion."

"I didn't know you played chess Mrs. O'Hara?" replied Gerald.

"Not for many years but I would enjoy taking it up again."

If knowing how to play chess was good enough for the sainted Ellen then in Gerald's eyes Scarlett should learn. So twice a week Mammy accompanied Scarlett to Twelve Oaks where she and John Wilkes would spend hours before the fireplace in the library contemplating moves. In time, under his tutelage, Scarlett became more than a competent player, she became a formidable opponent.

He praised her daring and her live or die strategies. She always worked toward check never a draw or stalemate. It took her nearly five months to finally beat him in endgame but when she did, she was elated. It was in the hardest form of endgame that she took her first long worked for victory.

She was playing white as she always did and the game had gone on for nearly three hours. Mammy had grumbled about the lateness of the hour but John Wilkes was every bit as intent on the game as Scarlett. He had told Mammy to tell Denna, his cook, to bring in a tray to them. They would play till draw.

"We'll play till check Mister Wilkes," she corrected gently. She wanted him to see her as a great lady such as his late wife, such as Ellen.

"At this point I think you should take what's offered Miss Scarlett."

"Are you offering draw," she asked the light of battle began to glow in her eyes, "because if you are I'll know that you gave me this game. I see at least three moves for black."

Mammy had left the library and so John smiled and gave her a wink. "I see five."

Scarlett surveyed the board once more and moved her knight. "My mistake, now it's three."

He smiled as he exhaled a small puff of breath through his nose. "And so we leave middlegame."

The line between middlegame and endgame is often not clear, and many times it had occurred in a matter of one move, taking Scarlett completely unaware, But gradually she had learned to focus on long term strategy. She learned to bring herself further than the plays on the board but to the plays that would be on the board.

Often she lost long before endgame. She always refused offers of a draw, playing for survival, sacrificing everything to buy herself another move. John Wilkes had silently admired the brash spirited girl that sat so demurely across from him making move after move with careful consideration. He had offered to teach her chess because he knew of her interest in Ashley and he had hoped to save this beautiful young girl the heartbreak that came from wanting what wasn't meant to be. He had hoped to use their weekly games as a way to better know her and to find the words to tell her that a girl like her would never be happy with a man like Ashley.

But then he became greedy. He came to enjoy spending Tuesday and Thursday afternoons playing chess with her, telling her stories about his late wife Leigh and about his own life in Virgina, years ago before he had come to Georgia to build Twelve Oaks. He came to eagerly await Maxwell, his butler, coming to the study to announce her arrival. Twice he had nearly offered his own hand in marriage for Gerald's consideration but he kept that locked inside his mind.

It wasn't that Gerald would refuse his suit, he actually thought that he might give him Scarlett. But how could he take a free spirited girl who had a whole life to live and make her into a companion to an old man. The idea of marrying her was just a foolish old man's fancy

She loved his son and saw him as a link to Ashley. Nothing more. Soon India and Honey would return. In February Ashley was due to return from Virgina and their games would have to come to an end. India's sharp eyes would see what there was to be seen. His admiration of Scarlett was tempered by something deeper, desire. He was only glad that Scarlett had been such a quick learner and that through her persistence and daring they had come to a point where she was sure to take a game from him before they came to their own endgame.

The endgame, however, tends to have quite different characteristics from the middlegame, and the players have quite different strategic concerns. In particular, pawns become more important; endgames often revolve around attempting to promote a pawn by advancing it to the eighth rank. The king, which has to be protected in the middlegame owing to the threat of checkmate, becomes a strong piece in the endgame. It can be brought to the center of the board.

Currently Scarlett was at the center of his thoughts, just as she had been since last fall. Ashley was leading her to believe that perhaps he felt more for her than he did. He had no doubt that Ashley was fond of Scarlett, but fond of her like he was fond of a dear friend, not a woman. He hadn't seen her in nearly five months. She was a woman now. The child Ashley had said goodbye to and occasionally sent gifts for was now a woman with a woman's passion.

John knew that she was waiting for Ashley. He knew his son, he would marry where his father told him he must, but would he secretly desire Scarlett, so full of passion and fire? Could he allow Ashley to marry Scarlett if he wanted to marry her in spite of the understanding he had with Henry Hamilton, cousin Melanie's guardian?

No, he couldn't. He couldn't have her sit across the table each morning and retire to his son's bed each night. No. Even if Ashley asked his him to ask Gerald O'Hara for Scarlett he would tell his son no. It would be the only selfish act of his life.


	26. In camera In Private

**this is short more of a chapterlet but I have a wake and a funeral service in the first half of the week and i honestly don't know how I will feel tomorrow and Tuesday.**

**I almost never ask but leave your opinions on the story as a whole so far if you have the chance, just interested in what everyone thinks...even if it's bad :d thanks**

The motivation behind his teaching her chess would never be know to Scarlett. She only saw the good deed in it's purest form. John Wilkes had been so kind to her that year and she never knew why, she assumed it was because with all three of his children gone the large plantation house must have been lonely and as silent as a tomb. Perhaps too he had seen her own loneliness during that long ago Autumn and had reached out hoping to comfort her during Ashley's absence.

A frown settled on her features for a minute, could it have been possible that Ashley's father had felt something more for her than a friendly interest toward a young woman that was in love with his son? The thought came unbidden and she attempted to dismiss it out of hand but…

Had John Wilkes harbored tender thoughts toward her? Her analytical mind, as Rosemary so astutely called it, allowed that he very well might have, after all when he came to Atlanta with the Army he had kissed her gently on the lips three times telling her that the first kiss was for her and the other two for Pitty and Melanie. Why hadn't he gone to the house to see them? There had been time, but he had spent it speaking with her about her family and all sorts of small things. Why wouldn't he go to Pitty's house unless he wanted to spend that last hour with her?

He had given her their chessboard as a wedding present when she married Charles Hamilton. She closed her eyes against the sudden tears that pricked the backs of her eyes. John Wilkes was in his grave nearly 10 years next August, what good would it do to look back. Never look back toward moves made and long countered.

But she did look back for a moment, allowing herself that usually denied luxury. Things he had said to her now made sense in a way that she had never before seen. How he was too old to keep up with her, how he'd always rise to pull her seat out for her at the chess board, holding her hand as she seated herself and sometimes not relinquishing it for several minutes.

Oh no, that couldn't be possible. She couldn't accept that someone she had been so fond of had harbored anything more for her than the affection of a carefully cultivated friendship between teacher and student.

If she was going to allow herself to wallow in the past then at the very least she could force it to dwell on more pleasant times. She forced her attention to other times, to Rhett. Scarlett suspected that Rhett knew she had at least a rudimentary understanding of Chess. Once, while they were on their honeymoon, they had been talking about the war and how even if the South hadn't lost several crucial battles the North still would have triumphed because of their position of strength over the South.

Scarlett was packing some of the stockings and underpinnings that had been delivered that morning to their hotel and without thinking had replied, "Restrain, blockade and destroy," the mantra she'd learned over John Wilkes's chessboard.

It was out of her mouth before she realized it. It wasn't that she didn't want Rhett to know she played chess, it wasn't as though he didn't find her to be intelligent, it was that she just didn't want to hear his words of scorn about Ashley and if she told him just who taught her to play chess he'd immediately conclude why she had taken the time to learn such a challenging game.

But he hadn't commented and the conversation continued onto other subjects.

Rosemary had come back with the chess board and had set it up on a lap tray, it truly was a beautiful set. Rosemary told her it was based on the War of The Roses. She had further elaborated on the battle for the English throne through which Scarlett only nodded and smiled. She had slowly come to enjoy Rosemary's company, but that didn't mean she wouldn't mind soundly trouncing her.

"And you said you've never played Chess before," asked Rosemary losing a bishop.

"When did I say that," asked Scarlett innocently, but her eyes gleamed with a predatory light.

"You said you were willing to learn what ever I could teach you."

"And I am."

"You sneak," exploded Rosemary good naturedly, "you know how to play and very well at that. Did Rhett teach you?"

"Certainly not, I did have some skills before I met the great Rhett Butler of Charleston and later parts unknown," answered Scarlett primly.

"Do you know how to play poker?" asked Rosemary with a grin.

"No," replied Scarlett eagerly, she had always wanted to learn after all it was how Rhett had made much of his early fortune. "Do you?"

"I do indeed." She looked down at the chessboard; Scarlett had her soundly beat no matter which way she moved. "To hell with chess, I'm going to teach you to play poker, and then," Rosemary lowered her voice and leaned forward as though she was afraid of being overheard, her eyes were alight with mischief, "I'm going to teach you how to cheat."

They were still playing nearly three hours later, making outrageous bets on losing hands and raising each other sums of money they could never hope to posses in a lifetime. Rosemary taught her how to count cards and draw from the bottom. She taught Scarlett all about the importance of a good poker face,

'That bland mask Rhett so often wore must have served him well while playing cards,' thought Scarlett with a faint twinge. 'Oh why didn't I ask him to teach me how to play poker years ago, maybe we would have ended up laughing every bit as much as Rosemary and I have during the last few hours.'

"I'm all in", said Rosemary grinning devilishly as she used the pieces of the chessboard as currency to up the ante. In leaning forward she crumpled the front of the honeydew colored gown Scarlett had loaned her. Rosemary voice held a seductive breathless quality as she was unused to being laced so tight and her breasts were fuller from the extra inches that a tighter lacing pushed upwardly into her bosom.

Scarlett's new pupil in the womanly arts was an apt pupil indeed. With a little more work on both their parts Rosemary would be beating off suitors with a stick.

"All in with what, and do sit back, you are crumpling my dress."

"All in with the money I've been stealing from your pot. And I am not crumpling your dress, it's crumpling all on it's own."

Scarlett looked up and met Rosemary's steady gaze with her own. They tried to out stare one another each employing her best poker face. Scarlett could feel a mirth that had been bottled up inside her for years start to course through her once more. Not since the early days of her marriage to Rhett had she ever been so satisfied with the course her life was beginning to take.

Rosemary was funny when she wasn't being a bluestocking and Miss Eleanor was right, she had charmed her. They were becoming confidants and there was Emily too. She had friends again. Friends to laugh with and share her thoughts, friends who were related to her husband so there was no fear that either would try and sink their claws into Rhett.

With an air of superiority Scarlet raised her chin and narrowed her eyes slightly before slowly sticking out her tongue. The gesture took Rosemary so unaware that her poker face dissolved into outright belly deep laughs.

"You're incorrigible," Rosemary gasped as she laughed till her sides ached and tears streamed down her eyes.

"You're absolutely right," replied Scarlett giggling.

Every time they tried to return to their card game they dissolved into bursts of laughter. Finally they abandoned all hopes of finishing the game and filled the afternoon with gossip and story telling.

It was one of the best afternoons of Scarlett's entire life.


	27. advocatus diaboli The Devil's Advocate

**Ok, one of GWTW's Latin phrases is incorrect in the novel and though it pains me I copied the mistake again here to keep with the integrity of the original. **

**Nihil Desperandum does not mean maybe literally speaking, it should in fact written as _Nil Desperandum _meaning Never despair. Nihil means nothing, nil can sometimes be substituted but not when used in a phrase.**

**My husband is so glad he is paying for college classes so I can learn enough Latin to challenge misuse in GWTW. That's my day, how is everyone else doing? **At 2 o'clock Penny came to Scarlett's room to announce Doctor Cross. A warm rose blush colored Rosemary's cheeks and Scarlett smiled in satisfaction. Rosemary looked beautiful in the melon hued gown she was wearing. Her hair was piled in a haphazard curled pile atop her head. Haphazard to the causal observer. Scarlett, Rosemary, and Penny knew that the hairstyle that currently graced Rosemary's head had taken nearly an hour to execute. Yes, Rosemary had come quite far in the last few days under Scarlett's handling.

Rosemary scrambled off the bed; she couldn't bear to have Doctor Cross catch her in anything less than a ladylike position. When Scarlett had first come to Charleston Rosemary had written her off as ignorant, silly, over vain; but for all of Rosemary's book learning that hadn't done her any good in achieving her dream of having Doctor Cross notice her existence. A few days under Scarlett's tutelage and she looked like a different person, an attractive young woman instead of an ink stained scholar. Obviously there was far more to Scarlett than initially met the eye. She wondered what else she could learn from her sister in law.

Doctor Cross knocked briefly on the door before entering Scarlett's room. Scarlett's apprising eyes turned from Rosemary to Jason Cross. He was perhaps in his early thirties, very tall and broad shouldered with hair the shade of a hickory nut. When examining a patient he wore a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles that only enhanced his no-nonsense appearance. His eyes were a little cold but that could have been attributed easily to the chilly shade of blue of his eyes.

His hands were too smooth for Scarlett's taste, at least in comparison to Rhett's own masculine slightly calloused hands, roughed by years of sailing and his recent adventures in agriculture. She filed that phrase away for later; one could never tell when one would need a jest at Rhett's expense.

Still he was a handsome man; there was no denying that. He was unmarried, a longtime bachelor not a widower so he didn't come with another woman's children to assume the rearing of. He had money. That was evident in everything about him; from his finely tailored clothing, his handsome two-year-old gig and horse he drove to see patients, to the large house he owned on King Street. Rosemary couldn't ask for a better candidate for husband than Jason Cross. Now, Scarlett mused, to give things a nudge in the right direction.

"Good afternoon Doctor Cross, was I expecting you this afternoon?" asked Scarlett coquettishly.

"Not unless you've gypsy blood and have taken to foretelling the future. I finished my rounds early and decided I'd call on you to check your progress."

"I'm feeling much better, thank you." Scarlett glanced toward the French doors. The day was still beautiful. All the better, now with just a little push Rosemary would be on her way to having a very handsome suitor.

"Doctor Cross, I know it's terribly foreword of me to ask, but would you do something for me."

Doctor Cross looked at her, his expression unreadable. "Perhaps, I'd best hear your favor though before I agree to it."

Scarlett looked down at her hands as though she was embarrassed but it was to hide a self-satisfied smirk. Men were really the most predictable of creatures under normal circumstances. No matter what she asked she could tell that Doctor Cross would almost certainly do it because he found her attractive and hoped to earn her good will. Jason Cross was very handsome, but Rhett was the only one she'd be showing good will to.

Scarlett had to just lay the basic foundation for Rosemary to build upon. It was humorous really, in a peculiar sort of way. How many suitors had Scarlett taken away from other girls over the years? It had to be dozens, but now she was determinedly working to secure a suitor for another girl, a handsome wealthy suitor at that.

"Poor Rosemary's been cooped up in here with me for days. It's simply beautiful out and she has just been the sweetest thing to stay and keep me company but it makes me feel guilty to have her spending her whole day in a sickroom." She lowered her voice so that Doctor Cross, unaware of his own movement, leaned slightly forward to better hear Scarlett's words. "I'd love some fresh flowers from the Kent Street market, to brighten up the room a bit."

Scarlett paused a moment, saying the Hail Mary twice silently in her head to estimate the amount of time it took for a blush to spread across a girl's face. It was a trick she'd learned years ago to manage Stu Tarleton and now she dusted it off to aid Rosemary. Raising her hand to her cheek she pretended as though she was checking for the heat of a blush that she knew quite well wasn't there.

It was all in the art of suggestion, she had learned as a girl. If a boy thought you were blushing it didn't matter that you weren't. He'd suspect that you were embarrassed because you'd realized you were being overly pert and slightly bold and that would make him clay in your hand to be shaped into whatever form you'd like to see him take.

She hazarded a quick glance at him; he was clearly intrigued as to what shape her favor might take. She had him, or rather Rosemary would shortly. "Oh Doctor Cross, I'm so embarrassed, I was going to ask you to escort Rosemary to the flower market but that really is too bold of me, I don't know what I could have been thinking to presume upon you like that," she lowered her eyelids and looked up at him through her thick lashes as though she were too embarrassed to meet his penetrating gaze head on.

Doctor Jason Cross smiled suddenly; the smile stripped some of the gravity from his normally somber face. "Presume too much, that's ridiculous, if Miss Butler would allow me to escort her to the market I'd be most pleased." He bowed to Rosemary who smiled sweetly in response.

Scarlett had to restrain herself from clapping her hands in delight. This was really too romantic. A nagging whisper caught at her for an instant. 'Rhett might not be as pleased as Rosemary if Doctor Cross does court her.' But Scarlett ignored the unpleasant thought. Rhett wasn't an ogre. If Rosemary were happy surely he'd be happy for his sister.

"Doctor Cross, you are quite sure I wouldn't be keeping you from something more pressing," asked Rosemary demurely.

"Nothing at all, as I said earlier my rounds for the day are complete."

"Well than I'll go and get my shawl and gloves, I shan't be a moment, will you wait here?" asked Rosemary trying to keep her voice from sounding to eager.

"Yes, I will."

Rosemary graced her sister in law with a radiant smile before she left Scarlett's room for her own.

Doctor Cross waited till Rosemary was out of earshot before he addressed Scarlett. "Somehow I'd never though of you as a matchmaker."

Scarlett had the decency to try and look embarrassed at being caught out by the good Doctor. "Are you angry?" she asked

"Not at all, I've admired Miss Butler for some time, but I never thought that she might be a little fond of me in return," he asked his eyes bright with hope, "Is she?"

How could I have thought his eyes were cold? Why they look just as Rhett's did when I first walk into a room dressed in a ball gown,' she thought. Oh how wonderful, he's every bit as enamored of Rosemary as she is with him. "I believe her to be, only she doesn't know that I suspect," lied Scarlett smoothly.

Doctor Cross took Scarlett's right hand and raised it gently to his lips; "I am forever in debt to you Scarlett. I would have never found the courage to ask Miss Butler for so much as a dance at a ball for fear of rejection and in one conversation you've arranged for us to spend the afternoon together. Thank you."

"You're welcome, and as for being in my debt, bring me some truly beautiful flowers and we'll consider ourselves even."

"It would be my pleasure. Which would you prefer; tulips, roses, gardenia's?"

Scarlett laughed and shook her head. "It doesn't matter a bit, although something that smells delicious would be most welcome. Tulips are pretty, but they aren't very fragrant, are they? The air in here becomes so stale because Rhett insists the French doors be closed most of the time for fear I'll be chilled."

"That's ridiculous, fresh air in moderation circulating through the room will do you a world of good. Not at night certainly, but I'll speak to Mr. Butler on your behalf."

"That would be very kind, he'll be back sometime tonight."

Jason studied her carefully for a moment, as though he were looking to see whether Rhett's absence was a sore subject with her. Not finding it so he proceeded with their conversation. "Is he on a business trip?"

"No, well yes, I suppose you could call it that. He's supervising the draining of the rice fields at the Landing, Dunmore Landing is Rhett's plantation."

"Caveat actor," replied Doctor Cross laughing heartily.

Scarlett's eyes narrowed at the word Caveat, the second word she was unfamiliar with but she knew perfectly well what Caveat meant, beware.

While searching for a new name for Frank's store after she and Rhett were married Rhett had convinced her that Caveat Emporium would be an excellent name for any store she owned. While she had been unsure of what the phrase meant, because Latin was not an integral part of the curriculum at the Fayetteville Ladies Academy, she had liked the sound of the lofty phrase. She had the sign painted and was preparing to hang it when Ashley, a very embarrassed Ashley, translated the Latin phrase to it's English meaning, "let the buyer beware."

She had seethed with embarrassment but had to choke it back as she often did in those early days. What use was her anger in the face of his blasé cynicism? She had, with clenched teeth, told him that she didn't appreciate being made a fool of and he had only bowed sardonically and offered an apology that was in no way an apology, but a vague suggestion that she made entirely to easy a target for his "jokes."

"Scarlett?" Doctor Cross asked, concern for her was clear in his voice, "you've gone white. Have I said something to upset you?"

She smiled at him although it was clear her heart wasn't in it. "I know Caveat means beware; I'm not altogether sure what actor means in Latin, it isn't the same as a stage actor though, is it?"

Doctor Cross beamed as though she were a student who'd against expectations passed exams with flying colors. "Actor in Latin means a performer, but in the sense of performing a task. When I say Caveat Actor in reference to the rice fields it was only meant to construe my feelings toward such a massive undertaking. For myself, I decided not to resurrect Rosé Vale, my own family's plantation because the yield did not justify the outlay." He smiled benignly before rephrasing his previous statement into words that he thought would be easier for a gently breed southern lady to understand, "That's farming terminology meaning what I put in wouldn't justify what I'd harvest."

It took Scarlett's entire prowess as a former belle not to roll her eyes at his description of farming. Great balls of fire, she thought angrily, between the two of them she was sure she could run circles around his "extensive" knowledge of the day-to-day operation of a large farm or even a plantation. His white hands with their exquisitely manicured fingernails did not bespeak him as someone who had picked cotton or hoed countless acres in order to survive the devastation of the collapse of the plantation system.

"That's a shame, do you miss it?" asked Scarlett mentally urging Rosemary to hurry back. There was something about Doctor Cross's personality that sometimes set her teeth on edge.

"Not particularly, I prefer living in town as opposed to the semi-isolation of a plantation. Besides my nearest neighbor incidentally would be Mr. Butler, somehow I can't quite see Rhett Butler coming to my back door to beg the loan of a cup of sugar, can you?"

The idea of Rhett asking anyone for a cup of sugar let alone Doctor Cross caused Scarlett to laugh aloud. "Not really. Doctor Cross, I am hesitant to mention this, but after giving it some though Rhett may not be happy if you begin to court Rosemary."

Doctor Cross nodded sagely, "I'd thought about that but I came to a conclusion. See what you can make of it… nihil mea interest."

Pompous show off, she thought scathingly. But the word nihil caught her and she thought hard. Was it from Rhett's mouth or Ashley's that she'd heard the word nihil? Mea was easy, that was from Ellen's prayer it meant me, but she knew she had heard nihil before used in a sentence.

_The jail, that was where she has heard the word Nihil used in a sentence. When the Yankees had arrested Rhett she had gone there under false pretenses to try and get the tax money for Tara and Rhett had been so close to telling her so but then he saw her damned hands, he had gone so far as to call her the hoary handed lady. _

That was spilled milk though what had he said nihil meant, oh she'd show Doctor Cross with his high handed Latin phrases.

_She had told him that she was unhappy to find him in prison. "Rhett, I'm so upset about your being here. Don't you think there's a chance of your getting out?"_

_And he had told her with a brash grin and an unconcerned shrug of his shoulders, "'Nihil desperandum' is my motto."_

_"What does that mean?" she asked once again at an intellectual loss when it came to him._

_"It means 'maybe,' my charming ignoramus." But his smile and the roguish wink he gave her saved his words from being interpreted as an insult._

_She fluttered her thick lashes up to look at him and then quick as a wink she looked down again._

_"Oh, you're too smart to let them hang you! I know you'll think of some clever way to beat them and get out! And when you do…"_

_"And when I do?" he asked softly, leaning closer._

_"Well, I…" and she managed a pretty confusion and a blush. The blush was not difficult for she was breathless and her heart was beating like a drum. "Rhett, I'm so sorry about what I…I said to you that night…you know…at Rough and Ready. I was…oh, so very frightened and upset and you were so…so…" She looked down and saw his brown hand tighten over hers. "And…I thought then that I'd never, never forgive you!"_

Her lips curved into a knowing smile and her eyes glowed like torches at the memory of his forceful all consuming kisses at the Rough and Ready before he left her there. The way he had kissed her last night had been so reminiscent of those hot kisses that cut through all thoughts of Ashley or danger or anger. That was Rhett though, he took what he wanted and to hell with the consequences.

Doctor Cross marveled at the play of emotions on Scarlett's perfect cameo inspiring face. She looked so vulnerable yet…he couldn't put a name to it except to say wanton. It wasn't the accurate word but it was a close cousin. Her eyes sparkled in a way that promised passion; illicit and unforgettable. But not now, now there was Rosemary and her eyes promised things that were closer to his own expectations of a woman; diligence, a ready wit, the taste of the forbidden in regards to her being a Butler didn't do anything to decrease her appeal.

"Scarlett?"

She lifted her eyes to met his but she was still so intent on her memories of Rhett that the look in her eyes could do nothing less than cause a small note of elation to trill in Jason Cross's mind.

If only that arrogant bastard Butler could see his wife and sister, both almost begging for a word of encouragement in regards to the affection they bore him, thought Doctor Cross with a smirk.

"Doctor Cross, I'm sorry, I was woolgathering. You were saying?"

"I wasn't, not for sometime. Unless you are referring to my earlier question, do you know what nihil mea interest, means?"

"Well mea is me, and nihil is," she paused, maybe didn't sound quite right and knowing how Rhett loved to tease her it might very well not be but she'd venture her opinion just the same, "maybe?"

He laughed genially and she could tell it was laughter that would be filled with mockery if she were a man instead of a woman. A man like Doctor Cross was the sort who for the most part would prize ignorance over intelligence in a beautiful woman.

"Maybe." He smiled. "The things people come up with," Doctor Cross said under his breath as he took his snowy white handkerchief and removed his glasses to wipe away a nonexistent smear of grease. "Nihil mea interest means 'makes no difference to me'. I'm quite certain that your husband will be most displeased if Rosemary were to accept me as a serious suitor, but that's a concern for the future. Presently I only want the opportunity for Rosemary and I to get to know one another. I am very grateful to you for helping the opportunity present itself."

Scarlett smiled wanly. She had gotten in over her head and she knew it. She had only wanted to pass her convalescence with a project of sorts but if Rosemary and Doctor Cross started keeping company Rhett would be furious. And if experience had taught her anything it was that most of that anger would be directed at her. Correctly in this case. She hadn't taken Rhett's feelings into account and there would most likely be hell to pay for it.

"I'm sorry I kept you waiting Doctor Cross." Rosemary stood in the doorway with a bright smile.

Doctor Cross nearly grinned at Scarlett before hurrying to face Rosemary. He lifted her gloved hand to his lips and pressed a brief kiss to it's back before telling her he'd wait an æon if she was due to appear at the end of it. Scarlett wasn't sure what an æon meant, but it was clear from the way Rosemary blushed that she knew and was flattered.

They both bid her a good afternoon and promised to bring the requested flowers back. Once she could hear their footsteps on the treads of the front stairs Scarlett flopped back into the pillows behind her. "I am in so much trouble," she muttered to herself.


	28. Mellita, domi adsum Honey, I'm home

**Okay MM is briefly borrowed from like for a nano second but don't want to get the lawyers on my back...I'd have to sic my own future legal consul on them lol. **

**For those of you who've requested a certain thing over and over for the last 30 chapters again and again, I hope you'll be happy. **

**This one is nearly 5,000 words literally so I am taking the weekend off loves as reality calls. Let's all meet back here Tuesday...although perhaps I could be swayed by an outpouring of love and post Monday, I may already have the next dozen chapters done :D**

The books for the mines were piled on Scarlett's bed with slips of scrap paper marking off discrepancies. There were so many that she had to make the scraps of paper half the size that she'd initially intended them to be in order to avoid running out. Thus far she was unable to tell if the mistakes were the work of an inept bookkeeper or deliberate theft.

She hoped for the former. They were so sloppy and obvious to anyone who knew where to look that she couldn't decide what to think. Surely Ross wasn't enough of a fool to be so blatant in his attempts to steal from Rhett. Ross didn't seem all that competent so maybe it was just a series of mistakes…except that the math was what told her that something was wrong. If it was a series of mistakes, then there should have been a continuous thread of mistakes steaming from previous errors.

The further she delved into the books, the more she came to see that one series of mistakes had nothing to do with the next. Some columns ended short on one page only to be duplicated on the next. Others had lines missing, but then the lines showed up later in the ledgers. After years of running the mills and the store Scarlett was privy to nearly every underhand method to alter the books of a business. Here it seemed that someone who sought to use every one of those tricks in one book was doing the book keeping.

Laboriously she had begun to correct the math and enter it into the master book she was building. There were so many errors that even if Ross was innocent of a calculated attempt to pad his pockets he had still cost Rhett's mines a great deal of money.

Her eyes ached from studying row after row of scrawled cramped handwriting. Glancing up from the ledger in her lap, the bouquet that Rosemary had brought back from her trip to the flower market with Doctor Cross caught her eye. Rosemary had arranged it and placed it on the demi-lune table by the door leading to Rhett's room. It was a suspicion arousing bunch of flowers and Scarlett had asked Penny to dispose of half of the blooms before Rhett returned from the Landing.

If Doctor Cross had set out to select a bouquet of flowers that looked like something a suitor would present to a lady he was courting and not a bunch of flowers to brighten a sickroom he had succeeded beyond question.

Rosemary had told her, while smiling dreamily, that Doctor Cross was an amateur botanist. He had personally built her bouquet from scratch as opposed to bringing her back one of the pre-made up bundles that were sold at the stalls on Ruth Boulevard.

Chewing her pencil thoughtfully Scarlett continued to study the blooms that comprised her bouquet. Trilliums, Wild Orchids, and Freesia made up the center arrangement. The outer ring of flowers were pale violet hued hydrangeas, French lilac, and bluebird roses. It was a bouquet meant to impress and it did. It impressed upon Scarlett that if Rhett ever figured out her interest in transforming Rosemary into a belle had led to his beloved sister and Doctor Cross courting he'd strangle her no matter what his romantic feelings toward her were.

"Damn,' she muttered aloud before throwing the pencil at the arrangement.

"Something not adding up?" Rhett asked politely from the hall door.

He had returned, just as promised. "Rhett," she said smiling beatifically.

"Scarlett," he answered with a half smirk at her enthusiastic welcome. "Now that we're clear on who we are, why don't you move on to telling me how much you've missed me?"

She rolled her eyes dramatically. "Why you conceited thing, who says I missed you? I'd hardly noticed you were gone."

He came into the room and shut the door gently behind him before coming to the bed. He'd been in and out of her room many times since she'd come home from the hospital, but she could already tell things were different between them. This time he didn't bother to observe formality and settle himself into her bedside chair. Instead he sat on the bed, facing her. "Really, that's a blow to my vanity. You see, I noticed I was gone from your side. To return only to find that you didn't miss me a bit is crushing."

"Well," she said with a small grin, "I may have missed you", she smiled coyly "a bit."

He glowered at her and she fought to suppress a fit of giggles. "A bit. Not quite the homecoming I expected. Didn't someone promise to count the minutes till I returned? The seconds too."

Her face took on a look of supreme innocence. "You mean me? I was so distraught that I couldn't look at a clock for fear the hands hadn't budged."

He took her hands and stroked her palms gently sending a shiver through her body. "Distraught, I am sorry to hear that. May I be so bold as to inquire why you've been distraught?"

She leaned forward till their faces were only inches apart. "Because as it so happens I hadn't been kissed enough for one evening after all."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Would you allow me to try to make it up to you?"

"Mmm," she murmured softly, "What do you suppose you could do to make it up to me?"

He laughed softly at her boldness. This was an entirely new side to Scarlett, one that he could become use to. "Never fear, I'll think of something," he said softly as he leaned forward to close the distance between them.

His lips brushed hers and he was so gentle that it brought tears to her eyes. They began to spill from the corners of her eyes and it only took a second before Rhett noticed her wet cheeks. He pulled back and gently with his pointer and middle fingers brushed the tears from first one cheek than the other.

What could have made her start to cry? He was about to ask when she tilted her head in what he always thought of as her little girl way and his heart nearly broke, she looked so vulnerable that he only wanted to lock her bedroom door and hold her close.

She cleared her throat and looking him squarely in the eye so he couldn't doubt the sincerity of her words she spoke softly. "I love you Rhett. I don't care if you don't say it back, I did miss you while you were gone and I'm glad your back."

He slid off the bed and left the room. He left; her mind and heart were sent reeling. He left her after she told him that she loved him. She had pushed him too far and he'd left her again rather than deal with her feelings. Her chest hurt but before she could begin to weep he returned bearing a large bunch of daffodils.

"I was going to bring these in before but I noticed your other bouquet and I thought I'd wait till tomorrow."

He hadn't left her, only left the room. Could there be hope after all? He hadn't said "I love you" back, but he hadn't asked her not to say it again. She reached out for the daffodils. They were beautiful, in a combination of shades that she'd never seen in a daffodil before. "Rhett, they're lovely." She lifted them toward her face and inhaled deeply. The daffodils had a soft, fresh scent that was much nicer than the cloying aroma of the bouquet Doctor Cross had chosen. "Where did you get them?"

"You have an admirer in the form of Julia Ashley."

That haughty old thing, why on earth would she send me a gift, thought Scarlett. She said as much to Rhett. "Miss Ashley? You're joking?"

"Not a bit, she came to see me at the Landing to have me bring them to you."

She inhaled again. Yes these were exactly what she'd had in mind earlier. "Rhett would you have Penny bring that bouquet on the table down to either the dinning room or Miss Eleanor's office if she'd like them."

"Your casting off the bouquet from an admirer for my humble daffodils? I'm touched."

"Humble my foot. After listening to Miss Ashley talk last month I'm sure that they are some exotic breed known only to her and about three other people."

"Four," he replied with a grin. He took the flowers from her and laid them on the table next to the other bouquet. "Mrs. Butler, may I ask, where did that enormous bouquet come from? Have you acquired an admirer in my absence?"

His words were light but she could see expectation in his eyes, expectation coupled with…dread. She was becoming better at reading him. Though he meant his words to be taken lightly, they still had an edge beneath them. He hoped that her giant bouquet was an innocent gesture from a friend, but he couldn't help but worry that Middleton Courtney or one of the other numerous gentlemen she'd bewitched during the season had sent them.

Honesty would have been the path to take but Scarlett couldn't bear to start a fight so soon after he'd returned. She opted for half the truth, which when considered was more of the truth than she would have ever given him during most of their marriage.

"I have indeed Mr. Butler", she teased gently, at the very least they could have a little time to laugh together before he discovered just what she had facilitated concerning Rosemary and Doctor Cross. "You should take that into consideration when next you plan to leave me alone."

"It was for one night," he countered with a stern frown that failed to reach his twinkling eyes.

"I work fast," she replied primly as she moved the ledger book from her lap to the bedside table. Then she folded her hands modestly in her lap, the very picture of maidenly innocence.

Rhett threw back his head and laughed at her demure appearance. He knew now that however she got the bouquet it wasn't from an admirer.

"They were from Rosemary", she confessed, well that was partially true Scarlett rationalized to herself, "I asked her to bring me flowers from the market. I thought they'd freshen up the room." Now should she mention Doctor Cross? No, that wouldn't be wise. It would keep till later.

He seated himself back on the bed and glancing at the piles of books at the end of the bed with ragged bits of paper making numerous pages a frown settled on his swarthy face. "You've marked off quite a few pages."

"I expect to be marking off many more," said Scarlett gently.

"Ah."

Moving to sit next to her, Rhett wrapped his arm around Scarlett's waist and drew her close. "My brother is stealing from me, isn't he?" he asked, from his tone of voice Scarlett could tell that Rhett was resigned to the possibility that Ross had abused his own brother's trust and goodwill.

She settled herself comfortably against his side. "Yes, I suspect he is. Rhett I'm sorry." She wanted to color Ross as incompetent, but that wasn't the truth and after combing through numerous ledgers she was nearly positive Ross had stolen a great deal of money from Rhett. Practically from the minute he'd started working for him.

"Don't be," he exhaled deeply. "I've known for some time that the books were becoming progressively worse. I suppose that's why I asked you to review them. I knew that if there were glaring inconsistencies you'd stalk them through the books like a bloodhound. Toby barked suddenly from his bed by the French doors. "Like a foxhound," amended Rhett with a halfhearted chuckle.

"If you've known he was stealing why didn't you fire him?"

Rhett leaned over and kissed the top of her head. "My dear when you aren't being very Irish, you are very French. The French aristocrats during the revolution were often more than willing to send family to the headsman to save their own necks. Much as I loathe my brother's actions, he is still my brother. I don't think I could turn him over to the authorities, to be honest I don't even think that I'll turn him out. I'll have to find him a position where he can't steal from me."

"Poor Emily, I wonder if she knows?" mused Scarlett aloud.

"She doesn't because if she did she would have been the first to tell me. I'm asking, as a favor to me, don't tell her about Ross. I'm not even going to tell him I know, I'll just tell him the books are far too disorganized for me to allow him to continue as executive accountant. He'll know I suspect something but as I plan to never directly allude to what I know that should make the situation bearable for us both."

Scarlett tilted her head up to study Rhett. "You don't mean us as in you and Ross, do you? Are you afraid that Ross may be angry with me, because he knows it's me that's reviewing the books?

Gently he began to run his fingertips up and down her side. The thin muslin of her nightgown was the only barrier between her bare skin and his maddeningly gentle stroking fingers. She shivered as his hand stop just at the underside of her breast. He moved his hand downward toward her hip where it stilled, resting lightly on her hipbone.

He wore an expression akin to a scowl and Scarlett knew, after years of never being quite sure as to what he was feeling, that the scowl wasn't directed at her.

When he finally spoke his words were soft, but firm. He spoke so softly that she would have thought that he might be talking only to himself if he hadn't used the word you. Only then was she sure that she was meant to hear his words.

"I won't let anyone hurt you, my own brother included. I can stand him stealing from me, I can ignore his drunkenness, and even the constant caustic remarks; I can overlook all those things. But I will not allow him or anyone else to cause you harm."

"You're not even going to hint that you know he's been stealing from you," asked Scarlett incredulously. She was all for family loyalty, hadn't she done what ever it took to support her own. But to condone theft? She honestly didn't think she'd be able to do such a thing.

"I am not even going to mention that you found any sort of discrepancies in the mines ledgers. I am going to ask that you continue to go over the books. While I'm not planning on exposing my brother's embezzling that doesn't mean I don't want to know precisely how much he's siphoned from my coffers." His face had fallen into the lines of a man much older than Rhett usually seemed to her and she searched her mind for any topic. The children. She smiled. Rhett loved talking about the children.

"Oh, let's not talk about this anymore," said Scarlett lightly. "Ella and Wade will be here tomorrow."

He knew what she was up to, but he had no objections to changing a particularly distasteful subject. "They will indeed. I will be very glad to see those two. They'll liven up the house."

"I meant to ask you, would you take Wade to your tailor? He's probably grown a foot in the last three months. Also, I'm going to have Miss Eleanor's seamstress come to the house to fit Ella for a new wardrobe. I'm sure Sue hasn't spent a penny of the money I've been sending on Ella or Wade, especially not on Ella."

"Maybe Suellen's changed?" offered Rhett.

"If Suellen's changed, then I'll divorce you after all and join Sister Mary Joseph's order."

She was at her best when being flippant and he couldn't help but laugh at the audacity of bringing up his only just recently discarded desire for a divorce. "My love, I'm sure you'd make a charming nun but God predestined you to be my wife. He gave you to me and I'm not willing to give you back."

"So you mean to keep me?" she asked coquettishly even while trying to conceal her elation of his use of the word love. Not my pet which she sometimes disliked the sound of; but love, his love.

"It seems I have too, how could I divorce you? I have no grounds, don't you recall our honeymoon in New Orleans when I told you that you ate as though each meal were your last", he grinned at the memory, "I also told you that there was no need to be such a glutton."

"What has that got to do with having grounds for divorce?" She asked trying not to sound annoyed. She hated to be reminded of how when they were first married she would scrape the plates during meals. It embarrassed her because it was just one more example of how she could never follow conventions. In public a lady should eat like a bird, Mammy had told her that after marriage she could eat all she liked, but dinning in a restaurant was governed by a completely different set of rules.

"I told you if you kept eating like that you'd be as fat as the Cuban ladies and then I would divorce you. However," He turned to better face her allowing both of his hands to span her waist "You haven't gained so much as an ounce since the day I married you."

He pulled her close and before she could say a word he drew her to him and kissed her. She managed, by wriggling against him, to free her arms from her sides where he'd unintentionally pinned them when he had taken her into his arms.

Her arms were around his neck and before she knew how they got that way they were lying back on her bed. Their kisses grew frantic as they tried to take their fill of one another. She moved trying to manage herself into a more comfortable position and as though he read her mind Rhett moved himself to her right side. Now he was leaning across her, bearing his weight on his elbow. Rhett's mouth was on her throat now, sliding lower toward the rise of her breast even while his hands were sliding down her rounded hips.

Why didn't I go after him after I told him I didn't want any more children? Her chaotic mind cried. How could she have given up embraces like these? The feelings evoked by his lips, his teasing tongue tracing damp circles on her skin, the heat of his hands scorched her through her thin nightgown, so much so that she was sure she'd have burn marks in the shape of his hands in the morning.

Rhett always had this effect on her; he left her flushed and anxious every time he looked at her in that suggestive way of his, the one that spoke of just what he'd do to her when he got her alone. A man who, even now at forty-eight, affected her twice what he had in their early years.

Without warning he lifted his dark head from her breast and his hands stilled. Their gazes met and locked, sweeping her out of her jumbled thoughts, drowning them in a tidal wave of emotion. He was so careful not to rest his weight on her for fear of aggravating her injuries. She knew that even though she had made it abundantly clear that she would welcome him, he wouldn't make love to her now no matter how badly he wanted her. No matter how much she longed for him.

She wanted him, needed him with a consuming hunger that she'd never felt for any other man in her entire life. Not even Ashley, no matter how beloved he'd once been had inspired passion like this. The aching feeling that if he stopped touching her she'd go mad. They'd hadn't shared a bed for so long, any reaction to him should have been tinged with nerves. But there was nothing inside her now but this need for him; it had always been there, no matter how hard she tried to deny it, and after all this time she never thought they'd be together again. She had hoped, prayed to God if he still paid her any attention, but she had never completely believed she would win him back.

There had been so many things that had gone wrong between them but none of that mattered now. All that mattered was the feel of his lips against hers, his touch, the way he'd tease her again and again before satisfying her in a way that had to be sinful. She'd never even heard so much as a whisper from the woman of her acquaintance about their husbands making them feel the way Rhett made her feel.

"Scarlett, look at me."

The way he said her name, like a caress made her groan as though he'd physically touched her. Her eyes opened and she admired him, wondering if she had ever really noticed just how handsome he was. Dark, dangerous, that sense of unbridled sensuality just barely suppressed below the surface...

His face was more mature, more open than ever before, and impossibly handsome. He had dark eyes that seemed to hold all the mysteries in the world, and full lips that smirked slightly when he was mad. Or when he was aroused, a voice whispered coyly in her mind The features of his face seemed to be carved from stone. His square chin gave him an arrogant, devil may care appearance. It was the face of a man who knew he often evoked admiring glances among woman he'd only just met. Only now did she know that he hadn't cared about other woman admiring him, he had only ever wanted one woman to admire him, and at long last she did, with everything that was in her.

At one time, she'd barely noticed his existence and now she knew every line, each every expression on his handsome face. She'd stored them in her mind in case she never saw him again after her agreed upon departure date. She'd actually believed that she'd known the man she was married to in Atlanta. Now in Charleston after all this time she still knew next to nothing about the inner Rhett, but that next to nothing was still more than she'd known about him previously in Atlanta.

He watched the play of emotions on her face and he knew that she was thinking about him. He wanted her, wanted to make love to her till they were both limp with exhaustion and satisfaction but he wouldn't risk making her condition worse. But if he couldn't physically show her how he felt, then it was time to tell her.

It was right now, even though it hadn't been the night before. Speaking about her to Julia this afternoon, he'd come to realize that Scarlett had made the ultimate gesture. She had opened herself up to his anger, ridicule, and harsh treatment. She hadn't rebuked him for any of it. She had accepted it all, waiting for him to exhaust his hostilities until he came to the bottom of his emotional well and found, that under all the hurt and pain was the love he'd always carried for her. That took a strength of character that he'd never credited her with. He had always known that she could surmount any obstacle in her way, but he didn't know she could do it with grace and patience.

He knelt before her on the bed and took her hands in his own. If she could open herself to him, then it was only right for him to do the same.

"I want you to know something, I think you know already, but just so that I'm sure you do, I love you. God, I've never loved anyone the way I love you. For years I would have given you everything I had to give if you'd only let me. And now, to be near you constantly, I've been so cruel to you for much of the season because I knew that the longer you were here the harder it would be to keep from falling in love with you all over again."

And that was that. The idea of courting her was ridiculous. He loved her and there was no need to prolong telling her so. She was smart enough to know that even if he pitied her that wouldn't drive him to profess love where there was none to be found. He loved her, it was as complex and as simple as that.

Scarlett could only stare at him, startled by this unexpected admission. She'd assumed that it would be months before he admitted that he loved her, not days. She had to be sure that he wasn't saying he loved her out of some misplaced sense of responsibility or guilt. She was sure that that wasn't the case, but her own treacherous mind couldn't accept his words without being completely sure. "You love me?"

He leaned forward and gently so as to not jostle her him over much gathered her close. "God help me, I do."

She tilted her head upward so she could look him in the eyes. They were warm and there was no trace of his usual self-mockery. He was smiling a little, not a smirk or that twisty half smile that curved his lips when he though something amusing. No, this was an honest smile filled with emotion, emotion that was directed at her exclusively

Still, she had to be sure. "You told me just yesterday that you weren't sure if you could love me again, that you couldn't trust me with your heart. Why has that suddenly changed?"

"Do you know how close I came to losing you?" Raising his fingers to the to the furrow lines of concern between her eyebrows he stroked her forehead gently before smoothing her hair back away from her brow. "Not just when you were unconscious after the boat capsized, but when I left you in Atlanta. Only now do I realize the enormity of what I nearly did. I almost divorced you, what if you found someone else after that…a new love? Or an old one," he added bitterly thinking of Ashley Wilkes. "I could have lost you forever."

"I wouldn't have found someone else, there could never be anyone else for me, just you. I love Rhett; I love you with so much of my heart that I have no more heart left to give to anyone else." Tears began to course down her face though she tried desperately to blink them away.

She couldn't help it, the agony and heartaches of the last few years had finally caught up with her just as they had the other night when Rosemary had read that poem to her. She began to cry and he held her to his broad chest, stroking her back and in a low voice he continued to speak to her. About how much he loved her and what she meant to him. About how happy he was going to make her if she gave him a chance.

Those words caused her to lift her face from his now tear soaked shirtfront, "Give you a chance?" she asked incredulously, "Isn't that what I should be asking for?" She begun to smile, "Of course if you had told me you loved me years ago then maybe I would have said it back years ago." She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips playfully. "Although I think if you hadn't always been such a skunk I…"

He began to laugh even as he lowered his lips to hers to silence her. Anything else they had to say to one another could wait. For now the knowledge that they each had the love of the other was enough. Everything else was unimportant in the face of that.


	29. Mihi cura futuri Concern for the future

Another week is upon us. Hmm where is my love, I figured Scarlett and Rhett making out would please a bunch of my constant readers. To those who did review thank you. And to the new faces, welcome.

The morning after his reconciliation with Scarlett, Rhett sat down to breakfast with an expression on his face that Miss Eleanor could not remember having ever seen wear before. The harsh lines that had etched themselves across his forehead and around his mouth had been smoothed as though by magic.

He kissed first Miss Eleanor then Rosemary before seating himself at the head of the table. He was so easy in his manner that Miss Eleanor could hardly fathom what could have come over her eldest son.

It took Miss Eleanor nearly all of breakfast to decipher Rhett's new countenance. Observing him she took in the way he bantered lightly with Rosemary. That in itself wasn't uncommon; brother and sister generally teased one another in a good-natured attempt to make up for the lost years when Rhett had been disowned.

In the soft morning light that illuminated the breakfast room that had formally been a second parlor when Rhett had bought her the house she wondered what could have happened to work such a change on Rhett. Something at the Landing? Perhaps, but that didn't seem likely. If something so momentous had happened at the Landing Rhett would have spoken of it. As she continued to observe Rhett she examined and discarded several possibilities for his behavior but nothing came immediately to mind.

It was only when he asked Rosemary about her newfound friendship with Scarlett that she arrived at the answer; the expression on his face was a visage of complete peace.

Her son's war with himself had come to an end. As she rose from the table to rearrange the bouquet that Scarlett had asked Rhett to bring to the dinning room she continued to observe her son's new demeanor as he laughed at Rosemary's anecdotes about Scarlett. She knew that her daughter in law had a great deal to do with Rhett's behavior.

It brought a wry smile to Miss Eleanor's lips, Scarlett had shown up at the beginning of the season and Rhett had nearly thrown her out of the house. Yesterday evening when he had returned from the Landing he had gone straight upstairs after giving her the most concise of greetings. He'd spent all of last night upstairs. Though she wasn't completely positive, she suspected he'd spent the night in Scarlett's room. If so that would certainly be a step in the right direction.

Miss Eleanor hadn't believed their nonsense about needing separate rooms, supposedly because Rhett snored, for an instant. She had nearly told them so months ago, but then she'd decided to let it alone. What ever was between her son and his wife was just that, between them. Forcing them to share a room and a bed could have instead only made things between them worse. If they were meant to work things out, they would and by all appearances had.

When she returned to the breakfast room Rosemary was scribbling in her leather bound blank book, the small volume which she was never without.After a moment it became clear to Miss Eleanor that Rosemary was trying to translate something Rhett had said. She noted that Rosemary was using a pencil, something she seldom did. Ever since Rhett had bought her back a new writing implement called a fountain pen from a man named Waterman whose business he was investing in, she'd used nothing else. But now she was jotting down whatever Rhett was saying with a pencil.

"Rosemary, where's that fountain pen Rhett brought you back from Boston? For a time I'd thought it had attached itself to your hand"

Rosemary laughed merrily as she finished her writing. "Talk to Scarlett about that. She confiscated it."

"Because she liked it? I could write to Lewis and have him send another?" questioned Rhett with a smile.

Scarlett had decided she wanted something and so she took it. How very like her. He'd missed that the most, her brass as he had fondly referred to it. That was what had been missing when he'd visited her that last time in Atlanta. She had been brave and struggled not to make him uncomfortable or defensive, but that spark that made her Scarlett had been missing. The knowledge that he was responsible for a great deal of the hurt that he saw in her emerald eyes was what had caused him to leave the Peachtree Street house in such a hurry. He had told her some falsehood about business contacts he wished to meet with before leaving for South America, but in truth he had initially intended to stay for two or three weeks to keep down gossip as he had once promised her. But even three days in that house would have found Scarlett in his arms. It would have been out of pity or lust, not love. That would have been something that would have only made the breech between them that much wider.

Rosemary sighed indignantly, regaining her brother's wayward attentions. "No, she doesn't like it at all. She told me that if I constantly must write things down then I needed to do it with a pencil because…" Rosemary rolled her eyes comically and Rhett knowing Scarlett as long as he had could only imagine how Scarlett must have sounded when she demanded the fountain pen be turned over to her keeping. He began to chuckle.

Rosemary reluctantly laughed with her brother. The fact that a virtual invalid had ordered her to turn over one of her most treasured possessions was funny. She had never even thought to refuse because it didn't seem possible to refuse Scarlett when she demanded something. "She had a list of becauses including, but not limited to;" Rosemary began to tick them off on her fingertips, "I was leaving inky fingerprints on her duvet, my fingernails were constantly stained by ink, and if I was going to borrow her dresses she didn't want me to put my leaking fountain pen in one of the pockets, which is ridiculous because none of her dresses have pockets, at least not that I've noticed.."

"It leaks", asked Rhett thoughtfully missing most of Rosemary's tirade. "I've invested a fair amount of money with Lewis. I hope that wasn't a mistake on my part.

"Rhett, you aren't listening. Those were the reasons she gave; I didn't say they were true." She frowned before adding quickly, "And anyway, it only leaks a little. Not nearly so much as she insists." Rosemary lifted one hand to admire her nails in the sunlight. "Although she is right about my fingernails, I've noticed that they aren't nearly as stained now that I'm using a regular nib pen or a pencil again."

Miss Eleanor looked at Rosemary's hand. "My goodness, how did she get all of that ink off in the first place? Your nails were a fright."

Rosemary shrugged, "Vinegar and something else, she told Penny what to use." Rosemary raised an eyebrow in her best sarcastic manner. Her mother always called that look her "Butler blood showing."

"You know mama, I am beginning to suspect you're thrilled that Scarlett's taken me up as a project."

Miss Eleanor had the grace to look bemused by Rosemary's comment. "Nonsense, although", she added trying unsuccessfully to hide a small smile, "it is nice to see you looking so tidy and neatly attired. Your hair looks lovely and Scarlett's quite right about that pen, there are several smudges on the parlor sofa that I thought were soot, but I now suspect they are ink."

Rosemary blushed and looked down at her plate. She had been jotting down something in front of the fire one night and the pen had leaked on her fingers without her realizing. She had moved a crewelwork pillow over the stains but obviously mama's observant nature had noticed that the pillow was out of place.

Rosemary looked so woebegone that Miss Eleanor declined to further berate her about the numerous ink stains throughout the house. "I missed what it was you two were discussing a minute ago. More Italian poetry?"

"No, it was a Latin phrase. I'm getting much better; I think I've worked it out. It was a difficult one though, a present and future tense."

"Don't keep me in suspense, what is it?" asked Miss Eleanor.

Rosemary cleared her throat and read the Latin first. "Nihil tam munitum quod non expugnari pecunia possit."

Rhett grinned at his mother, "Care to try mother?"

Miss Eleanor muttered the words to herself for a moment before she turned her full attention on Rhett. She regarded him with worry written clearly on her face. "Rhett,What have you done?"


	30. Ex animo From the heart

**Here is fun for everyone, out of all the reviews I receive for this chapter by Sat. I will pick one reader at random and let them ask me any question about this story and as long as they promise not to squeal I will answer it to the best of my ability. How fun is that :D**

"Nothing yet. I don't know if I'll even be able to convince the church to accept my offer. Being the Catholic Church puts them in the superior position for bargaining."

Miss Eleanor was by now thoroughly confused. So confused that she jumped to what she could see as the only logical conclusion. "You just told Rosemary that 'No fort is so strong that it cannot be taken with money', Ross told me that you offered Scarlett money in exchange for her compliance in regards to a divorce. This morning you are in one of the best moods I've ever seen you in. And I don't just mean since you returned to Charleston, I mean ever. When Ross told me that you tried to buy your way out of your marriage I dismissed it as a misinterpretation. Was I wrong?"

"Ross told you that?" asked Rhett blandly, but inside he was seething. His brother was skating further and further out onto thin ice and eventually he was going to crash through and drown. "Ross was grievously mistaken, wasn't he Rosemary?"

Not trusting herself to speak, Rosemary only nodded her assent to Rhett's statement. Why had she shared Rhett's confidences with Ross? She cringed at the way her brother had used Rhett's secrets to try and tear him down with mama. Ross over the last few years had become a different person, less like the brother she'd known all her life and more like a cruel stranger.

"Mother, I love Scarlett. She is my wife, nothing will ever change that. I left her behind in Atlanta because we each just needed some time before we saw one another again. As to what I was telling Rosemary, I'd like to put your mind at ease. My wedding anniversary is in May, the 2nd to be exact. Thought I believe traditionally this year's anniversary present should be iron related I've decided to throw a large amount of money at the Honorable Archbishop Lynch in order to try and reclaim Scarlett's sister Careen's share of Tara. She signed it over to the church as her dowry. It's always rankled Scarlett that she had to share Tara with Suellen and Careen, but at least they are her sisters. The Catholic Church, to her way of thinking, is a stranger. So she feels as though a stranger owns a stake in her family home."

Miss Eleanor gestured for Carlen to fill her cup as she sat back down at the table. She smiled fondly. Scarlett was so bold. She wanted something that she considered hers and she was willing to take on the Catholic Church to get it. "So that's why she spent all of Lent rattling her beads. I'd wondered what she was up to, but I thought it would have been too presumptuous on my part to question her outpouring of faith."

Rhett roared with laughter at his mother's astute observation of Scarlett's behavior during Lent. "You should have asked, I believe she might have told you if she thought you knew anyone who could help further her cause. She had initially asked me to use my influence, but as I told her I know many dishonorable people but very few princes of the church."

"If you couldn't help her before Lent, then why do you think you can get her sister's share back now?" asked Rosemary slyly. Her brother had gone from vehemently wanting Scarlett out of his life to making plans to procure her an anniversary present that would mean more to her than any piece of jewelry or a hundred fur capes. Scarlett was defiantly a far more complex person than Rosemary had initial believed. In just three months she had completely annihilated her brother's resolve to see the back of her. Now when he said her name he pronounced it like a caress and not a curse.

"Because as it so happens one of the dishonorable persons that I know is acquainted with a prince of the church, Archbishop Lynch by happy coincidence."

His mother's mouth drew into a narrow line, completely devoid of humor. "Rhett Kinnicut Butler, please tell me you aren't planning on blacking the name of a Catholic Archbishop. My good Lord Rhett, I may be a Protestant, but still. You aren't suggesting that you are going to forcibly convince a man who is the Archbishop of the Catholic Diocese of Charleston, which if I might add on the off chance you were somehow unaware, comprises the entire state of South Carolina to sign over the church's stake in a ramshackle plantation somewhere in Georgia?"

"Mother, I'm not going to forcibly convince him to do anything. I am simply going to make an extremely large donation to his pet project. It's a Catholic Newspaper that he used to edit before his election to Archbishop. You remember the fire of December of '61, the one that destroyed the most of the western end of Francis Street? Sadly it also destroyed the Cathedral of St. Finbar, which was where the editorial offices of the paper and its presses were located. I'm merely going to offer the Archbishop a sizable donation in the name of Careen O'Hara so that he can try to get his paper up and running again. I expect that he'll be so grateful that he'll ask if there's anything he can do for me and I'll ask him to sign over the share the church received as a dowry. After all it's not as though the church profits very much from it. Tara these days is more farm than plantation, and it's only that now because of the blood, sweat, and money Scarlett has poured into over the years."

"Your friend, the one you have in common with the archbishop, was he the one who told you about the newspaper?" asked an obviously fascinated Rosemary. The life that Rhett had lived before returning to Charleston was filled with scandalous happenings and various persons of dubious characters. Rosemary had tried many times to persuade her brother to disclose his exploits, but he was terribly stingy with them. He said mother would never forgive him if he corrupted her innocence with tales of his wicked years alone in the world.

"Actually my friend is a business woman whom I've made several investments with. She was acquainted with the archbishop in New Orleans and they resumed their acquaintance briefly when she relocated to Atlanta. I've a letter from her that mentions the Archbishop several times. She asks that if I speak to him will I be sure to I'll remember her to him. I'm sure he'll be overjoyed to hear from her. It is always pleasant to know that old friends are doing well."

Rhett smiled innocently at his mother and sister, he was pleased at how neatly everything had come together. He had sent a note to the Archbishop this morning simply asking to meet with him. However, to ensure the meeting would be as soon as possible he'd added a postscript saying that he was a friend of a Miss Watling, did the name ring a Belle. That alone would most likely secure him an audience with the elusive Archbishop within the next few days.

He'd never admit it to her but as he'd watched how disheartened Scarlett had become by the Mother Superiors non-answers to her pleas to reclaim Careen's share of Tara he'd begun to feel sorry for her. She couldn't get an audience with the Archbishop and he was the only one who could actually release Careen's share from the See of South Carolina's holdings. One evening as he had smoked on the second story pizazz Scarlett had complained bitterly about Careen's mother superior, "she won't say yes and she won't say no. I don't believe she even has the authority to give up Careen's share. How could baby be that foolish? To just give up her share of Tara, how could she do that? Why couldn't she have just asked me for a dowry? I could have found the money somehow, somewhere. Even if it had meant not expanding the mills I would have given the money to her before I let her just give away Tara."

Though he had been pretending to lend only vague attention to her tirade his heart went out to her. She loved that red clay more than anything in the world. The odds of the Church ever releasing Careen's share even if it wasn't worth very much were slim. They had accepted it because she had valued it enough to give to Christ when she became his bride and if for no other reason, the church would keep it based on that gesture. "Maybe she thought more of Tara than you believe?" he suggested gently

She had looked at him with her clear green eyes and sighed softly before she leaned forward over the pizzazz's railing. She looked over the yard toward the Charleston Harbor that led to the sea. "Why couldn't she see that Tara was worth more than a dowry? How could she just give her share away in exchange for something, even to become a nun? My father loved Tara. Everything that came to him that he valued in his life; my mother, his children, his place in the county came from his building Tara into what it was. It would break his heart to see it split in three parts. That's why I want all the shares. Not to rub it in Sue's face or because I believe I value it more than my sister. Pa promised to leave me Tara one day because I was most like him, but even that isn't why. I want the shares to hold it together. I want to leave it to Wade, intact the way my father would have wanted."

A tear ran down her face and before he could hold her and offer comfort or even his handkerchief she drew herself up to her less than considerable full height. Her small shoulders were squared and she blinked quickly to banish her errant tears. "I've been talking you ear off for a dog's age. You should have stopped me from running on so. It's getting late and I wouldn't want Miss Eleanor to have to hold dinner on our account." She fled the pizazz without pizazz letting him say a word.

Presently it amused Rhett to know that he had decided to help Scarlett even while he had been planning to divorce her. That evening in the glooming of the day as she had, without false pretensions, told him exactly why she wanted Tara back so desperately he had decided to make that dream come true for her, because in his heart he had already known that he loved her still and wanted her happiness.

She wanted Tara in its entirety because she loved it. Not for economic gain or the need for ownership. She loved it because it was a part of her, a part of the father she had loved wholeheartedly. When she had spoken of someday giving Tara to Wade it had moved him beyond measure. She valued Tara above all things and the knowledge that she thought Wade worthy of such a gift corrected one of his misconceived notions about her. She loved her son more than he had ever known. If she wanted him to one day be master of Tara that proved it beyond any doubt.

He'd begun to wonder if Archbishop Lynch was the same Father Lynch that Belle had been associated with in New Orleans. She had told Rhett several amusing anecdotes about how a certain priest would ask Belle to take confession first before conducting business. He had written to her nearly three weeks ago and her reply had only just arrived.

Also, the knowledge that Scarlett would be overwhelmed when he presented her with the documents awarding her Careen's share hadn't hurt his resolve to help her. If anything that was what inspired him to write Belle in the first place. If experience was any sort of teacher the way she would have thanked him would have been well worth any trouble he went to. Scarlett would be extremely grateful and that thought had tantalized him, kept him from sleeping late at night as he imagined her body pressed against his own as she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. The way she would say his name in that breathless excited voice, Rhett, oh Rhett…

"Rhett? Rhett!"

"Yes." He answered with a small start, it was barely noticeable but Rosemary caught it. She favored him with a smirk that would have done him credit.

"Penny for your thought? "Rosemary asked mischievously

"They aren't for sale. Now, if you'll excuse me," he rose from the table and placed his linen napkin next to his plate, "I'm going to wish Scarlett a good morning and then I have to meet Emily and the children at the depot."

"Scarlett must be looking forward to them arriving," commented Miss Eleanor.

"We both are. I'm the only father Ella's ever known and I've known Wade nearly his entire life. I'll be happy to have my family together under one roof." He kissed his mother's cheek and tweaked one of the wispy curls that fell from Rosemary's up sweep.

Rosemary waited till she heard Rhett's footsteps head down the hall upstairs before she spoke to her mother. "Mother, what Ross told you about Rhett trying to buy Scarlett's compliance with a divorce. It was true, but Rhett didn't tell Ross, I did. Rhett confided in me and I told Ross so that perhaps he could give some advice to Rhett, man to man."

"Whatever happened between them is just that, between Rhett and Scarlett. In any case it seems they've fixed their problems. Your problem on the other hand is one that we should solve immediately."

"My problem, what do you mean?"

"If Rhett finds out just who squired you around yesterday afternoon he'll be furious."

"How do you know?"

"Rosemary, I saw him escort you to the front gate. He kissed your hand. You know how Rhett feels about the Cross's." She held up her hand to shush Rosemary's coming indignant words. "Jason Cross is a good looking man, I see that. I know he's charming and if he were anyone else I'd ask your brother to allow him to court you. But the simple fact of this matter is that Rhett will lock you in this house before he'll let you keep company with a Cross. I may be your mother, but Rhett is your guardian. He is the only one that can give you permission to marry and he won't, not to marry Jason Cross."

"Marry, mama? You're getting ahead of yourself, ahead of me. We only went to the flower market together because Scarlett asked…"

Miss Eleanor's shocked expression was enough to make Rosemary wish she had kept Scarlett's name out of this debacle. "Scarlett? Rhett's wife Scarlett?" asked Miss Eleanor painfully. "Scarlett's caught up in this? Good lord, what have you two girls gotten yourselves into? Rhett and Scarlett are at this moment in a very precarious place. One wrong step one way or another and they might not be able to get back to where they are right now. For your own good, for the good of your brother's marriage just stay away from Doctor Cross, please Rosemary, promise me."

"Mother, he's an acquaintance, nothing more. I don't understand why you are so eager to jump to the conclusion that I'm rushing to the alter with Doctor Cross."

"Because you are a Butler," Miss Eleanor rose from the table and before leaving the room she turned back to speak sternly to Rosemary. "Non mihi, non tibi, sed nobis cunctus is the Butler family motto. It's been that for nearly 300 years. You're so eager to work on your translation skills, translate this, Nec mortem effugere quisquam nec amorem potest, that's what the Butler's motto should be.

Rosemary waited till her mother left the room before quickly jotting down the second phrase. The first was 'Not for you, not for me, but for us all.' She had learned that phrase from her father before she was three years old. It amused him to hear her lisp the words from the Butler family seal in her baby voice. It was one of the few times that she had pleased her father. The second phase she was able to translate before she finished writing it down, but she wrote it in her blank book for future reference. The words stood out on the otherwise blank page, glaring at her accusingly. 'No one is able to flee from death or love.'


	31. Concordia In Harmony

"Good morning", whispered Rhett in Scarlett's ear. She smiled but kept her eyes closed. "I know you're awake."

"I am not, maybe you're dreaming."

He laughed before moving her hair from her neck. "If I were dreaming my love, I'd be in that bed beside you."

Scarlett opened her eyes and gradually sat up, wincing at sore muscles and aching joints. She was paying for her exploits the previous evening, but it was worth it. Every twinge, every dull throb spoke to her of Rhett holding her, kissing her. Yes, the pain was worth it, every second of their time together even if it had to be paid for in full...

"You left last night?" she asked gently. It wasn't an accusation of wrongdoing, just a question.

It was hard overcoming 12 years of veiling his emotions when dealing with Scarlett but this was a new day. "I did, but only after I was sure you were asleep. I pride myself on being able to control my emotions, but when it comes to you I find control to be in short supply."

She reached her hand out and he took it in his own, kissing her palm. "Sweet, but not quite what I was looking for," she said smiling coyly.

"My lovely wife, if I gave you what you're looking for right now I'd be late getting to the station."

She laughed freely. He was teasing her, but it wasn't cruel or meant to wound. "You're awful, I only wanted to kiss you good morning."

"Yes, but something tells me I wouldn't want to leave this room till it was time to say good night."

"Oh go on then, go. I don't care if you ever come back," she said making a shooing motion with the flat of her hand. She tossed her hair and smiled winningly to show she was more than able to tease him right back.

He pinched her cheek gently and she smiled, bringing out the dimples in her cheeks. "I'll be back."

Her smiled wavered " And I'll be here, after all where else would I be." Her words were tinged with bitterness and he bent forward to kiss her. It was only a chaste good morning kiss but they both knew it could become something far more involved if they allowed it too.

"By next week Doctor Cross told you that you'd be up and about. Surely you're excited about that."

"Up and about with a stick. I'll be the laughingstock of Charleston. Either that or everyone I know will go out of the way to tell me how sorry they are that I'm a cripple."

"So then we'll go to the Landing if you'd like. You and Ella can start to make plans to redecorate and I'll take Wade out with me to oversee the grounds workers. If you still intend to acquire all the shares in Tara, you'll want him to know how to run the place. Watching me manage the Landing will be good practice for the day he is the master of Tara."

She looked at him suspiciously. "You're going to allow me to decorate. You are a brave man."

He winked. "That house has withstood a revolution and a civil war, I'm sure that whatever you do to it won't be it's undoing."

"OUT." She told him forcefully pointing at the door.

"Here now, I am just trying to help by giving you something productive to do while Wade and I are occupied elsewhere. The least you could do is to act as though you appreciate my grand gesture. That house will stand to future generations as a testament of my love to you." he said with a smirk.

"How do you mean?"

He went to the door and opened it before answering with a casual smirk. "Because people will look at it and say that woman's husband must have loved her a great deal to allow her to do that to his home."

She hurled a pillow at him. "You sir, are a cad. But," she added with a grin, "You are my cad and I love you, very much."

His eyes twinkled merrily as he searched for something. What had he told her at Twelve Oaks about his attraction to her? How could he forget? "And you miss are no lady, but that doesn't seem to stop me from loving you more than you'll ever know." He bowed gracefully. "Now if you'll excuse me, I should leave now if I want to meet the train. I'm sure Emily will be very happy to see me."

"I doubt that Wade and Ella gave her a lick of trouble."

"I'm sure, but still two days in on a train in less than a week is more than enough for anyone."

"Hurry back," she instructed him sternly.

He gave her his best schoolboy expression of innocence. "I'll be sure not to dawdle on my way home Mrs. Butler."

"Now I do mean it, go on, bring my children home."


	32. in perpetuum Forever

**I'll admit it, sometimes i am moved by my own work. I think this is one of those times. I had some help from MM's GWTW I admit it freely. But again not as much as it would appear. I think you'd have to compare the two side by side to see what i borrowed :D this time i had a lot more inspiration from my own life.**

He left after kissing her one more time and then she was alone. Penny had taken Toby downstairs to play in the yard while she went about her chores and the house was quiet. The events of the previous evening swam before her eyes and she yawned delicately. She had stifled that yawn for nearly twenty minutes. If Rhett knew just how exhausted she was he would never let her out of bed. She'd be stuck for weeks perhaps and that wasn't acceptable. Her children were coming and then there was Rhett to contend with.

Next week, once Doctor Cross gave his permission for her to get out of bed, they were going to the Landing. This time she wouldn't be an unwelcome tag-along or an imposition. This time she was going as Mrs. Rhett Butler, mistress of Dunmore Landing. How funny and strange that after so many years she was at last the mistress of a large plantation house, married to a man from a fine old family. And what a man he was, her husband. Her lips curved sensually as she thought about their time together the previous evening.

He loved her, he loved her children, and he wanted to make her happy. He had told her last night, her room dark save for the light of one candle on the bedside table, that all he had ever wanted from her was her love. It was the most precious thing he could have ever hoped to obtain and now that he had it he was going to spend the rest of their lives together showing her just how much he valued the gift she had given him.

They hadn't made love but what had transpired between them was somehow better. If Scarlett were given to personal introspection she would have been able to immediately identify why, but after the events of the previous evening she tried to examine them logically, in the same manner she would approach the books for the store if they were in a snarl. By examining each piece of information she was able to come to a conclusion as to why last night had been so poignant, so meaningful..

For the first time in any of her marriages, she had been touched with love. It hadn't been lustful, the way Charles had touched her on the two nights he had shared her bed. It hadn't been dutiful; the way Frank had taken her every Wednesday till she conceived Ella. Briefly she muttered a prayer to balance the feeling of relief that still came from the thought that Frank had been killed before Ella had been weaned so her reprieve from conjugal duty had carried her from the discovery of her being with child till Franks death.

Even with Rhett during their early days of their marriage she hadn't felt loved. Desired, yes. Lusted after; often. Before things had soured between them she'd catch him watching her with his intentions clear in his twisty half smile and his smoldering gaze. Throughout their marriage up until the very day he'd left her in Atlanta she had never been able to come to a conclusion about why he had married her. Men married for a home and children or money but Rhett had married her for none of those things. Men also married for love, but never once had it crossed her mind that he had married her out of love.

He hadn't married her for any of the usual reasons men marry women. He had married her because he wanted her and wouldn't dishonor her by taking her any other way. He had admitted as much the night he proposed to her. He had wanted her not for her body, but for her mind and her true self. That did not discount the attraction she held for him. He thought her beautiful and her body alluring. She had known that for years. But he had known a great many women before her and no doubt after her. To known that all this time he loved her lured her into examining their shared past; past conversations, past gestures, past looks that had eluded her understanding.

He loved her; would love her till the day he died. The idea of being so completely loved was heady. It made her dizzy with emotions that she was unaccustomed to feeling and she leaned back into the pillows to stare at the canopy above her.

She had told him last night, in a whisper because she was afraid to air her trepidations about their future together, that he had to be sure this time. If he thought that he couldn't love her or that he might tire of her it would break her heart in ways that could not be mended. Not by him, or by anyone.

Rhett had told her simply, without his usual air of insolence or conceit, that he had been someone else in Atlanta; he had become a man he didn't recognize when he realized that putting his rings on her finger hadn't earned him her love. He had thought that eventually she would come to love him, turning from Ashley to him. When that seemed unlikely he had begun to harden his heart against her. He had spoken of fighting himself;telling her that he couldn't continue to pretend that he didn't love her.

He had been next to her in the bed, last night, stroking her temples with the tips of his fingers, as she lay drowsy in the crook of his arm. "I'm tired of fighting Scarlett. I can't look you in the eye and tell you that your trying to recapture my affections is a lost cause, your eyes cut through to my soul. It makes it hard to leave you alone leaving you with wounds that I've inflicted. Maybe I'm the lost cause," he ventured forward wryly, "it's only here in Charleston over the last year that I've been able to look back on how I treated you. Of course you had no idea I loved you. I treated you like a pet, waving a red cape before your eyes to watch you charge in anger then treating you with derision when you when you did precisely what I knew you would. For that I can't apologize enough. There simply aren't words or gestures enough to show you that I regret my part in the dissolution of our marriage. You were honest with me when I asked you to marry me. You told me that you didn't love me, that you loved someone else…" 

"Shh," she hushed him gently. "None of that matters now, what matters is that I love you. Not from a distance, not because I don't see you for who you really are. I love you because I know who you are and you know me. You don't expect me to pretend to be someone I'm not. You don't expect me to fit a space that you created for me without taking who I really am into account. You accepted that I could change; I have changed from the girl I was before the war. That Scarlett O'Hara died the night I had to deliver Beau. If there was any shred of her left than I suppose when I killed that Yankee deserter I banished her forever. I remember when the taxes were due on Tara, when I came to see you in Atlanta, my sisters and Melly thought God was going to work a miracle especially for their benefit. But He didn't, I did. Melly could pick cotton and help me clean up the blood of the man I murdered. Careen and Suellen could wake to find mother dead and the whole world turned upside down but they were essentially the same girls they were before the war came. I'm the only one who changed and I wouldn't have changed if I could have helped it." She laughed, her still slightly sore throat gave it an ironic tremble that he didn't often hear from her. "I remember Rhett, watching them cut up my mother's pouters thinking the only miracle that's going to be worked around here is the one I'm going to work on Rhett Butler." She laughed again, but her laughter was tinged with a trace of hysteria as though she was only just able to keep tears at bay.

"Oh Scarlett," he whispered drawing her closer into his arms. "I swear to you, I couldn't have given you that money. I wanted to for all I teased you about it. The minute I was released I went to Miss Pittypat's to find you. When I heard you married Frank Kennedy I can honestly say that I was of two minds, I was relieved because I knew that you had your money…" He ceased his reminiscing and lay quietly holding her close.

When he didn't continue she took his hand in hers and lifted to her lips to kiss his knuckles gently. "What else did you think when you'd heard I married Frank?"

"It doesn't matter," he replied.

"It does to me."

Reluctantly he spoke, letting her into his inner mind was still a battle, but he had resolved to let her in if she took the initiative to ask questions that needed honest answers. "I thought that I was being punished." He smiled but it was without mirth, only a sadness that touched her deeply. "Isn't that a joke? I thought that God had taken enough of an interest in my past exploits to visit some kind of divine retribution on me. I gained my freedom two weeks after you'd lost yours. The day I came to see you at the store…I wanted to tell you that I loved you, I'd heard that Frank was sick in bed" anticipating her question before she could ask it, he answered with a self satisfied smirk, "and never mind how I heard, you know I've always had ways of learning whatever it is I need to know. I needed to know that you had the money. that was information I would only trust from your own lips"

"Is the wolf still at the door," she said softly, quoting his words to her in the store all those years ago.

He kissed her forehead; pleased to see his words of concern had stayed with her through the years. "I had to know you see, I intended to leave Atlanta after that visit. Once I knew you were safe and cared for. But then you wanted the mill. How could I have left town till I knew the mill was established and that I wouldn't lose my investment," he added, his voice heavy with amusement.

"Was it your investment that kept you in Atlanta when I was carrying Ella?" she asked pointedly.

He didn't answer her. Instead he kissed her turning his body toward hers. It was a gentle kiss, not meant to convey ownership or demonstrate his dominance over her own weaker self. It was a kiss meant to show her all that his words, eloquent though they would have been, couldn't begin to express to her just why he had stayed in Atlanta until her confinement. The second she had been confided to Pitypat's house he had left the city, coming home to Charleston to visit with his mother and sister and more importantly to drink too much Whiskey and lose himself in girls who were not Scarlett. No amount of liquor could make them Scarlett.

When they broke apart she rested her hand on his face and with the pad of her thumb she traced the hard line of his jaw. "How could I have been so blind that day at the store? You were so angry with Ashley. You told me…" she screwed up her face trying to recall the hot words that he had goaded from her lips and the few barely discernible slips in Rhett's mask of utter self-control.

"Sweetheart," he said trying to draw her into the present, the past was still fraught with dangers, words and actions that could finally be left to wither into dust.

"You were so angry, I remember you were smoking and you were furious when I said that Ashley loved me. I think you told me I could take your money and throw it away right after if I would answer your question about Ashley's love for me. You wanted to know if he loved me than how could he let me come to you in Atlanta to get the money? I lied to you when I said he couldn't know. He must have known, Melly kept after me, teasing me about Captain Butler but I brushed her off. I told her I was going to secure a mortgage against Tara and then pay it back out of the next year's cotton crop. But you were right; Ashley knew I was going to you. How could he not have?" She sighed and moved closer to his comforting warmth.

"I was serious when I said he should have strangled you before he let you come to me," he said turning on his side so he could see her face in the dim candlelight.

"If he had I wouldn't be here with you now," she pointed out sensibly.

"If you hadn't interrupted with your impassioned defense of Mister Wilkes I suspect I would have told you that I loved you that afternoon. It was on the tip of my tongue, but then I knew it would be wasted then, that you'd believe I only wanted you for your body."

"I remember you faulted Ashley for that, but" she said her voice becoming coquettish, "You admitted that you wanted my body too. I believe you said I had... how did you put it?" She pursed her lips coyly, pretending to be unable to remember.

He laughed heartily at her feigned innocence before supplying her with his words. "I believe I told you that you had green eyes that make a man wonder just what you would do if he took you in his arms. And a way of swaying your hips, that's an allurement to any man under ninety?"

"Mister Butler, you have quite a way with words," she said laughing gaily.

"I'm glad you've finally noticed," he replied before kissing her brow before moving to her cheeks, then her lips.

Stretching her still achingly limbs Scarlett sighed deeply. The noise of her sigh in the quite of her room cause her to laugh aloud. She giggled softly; this mooning over her own husband was becoming a common occurrence in the course of her days. Last night Rhett had worshiped her with such reverence that even now the touch of his hands on her skin, the feel of his lips on hers, the way the smell of brandy and cigars clung to the pillow he had rested his head on was still with her.

Less pleasant thoughts now seized her. If he knew she was so tired he would never let her go to the Landing. He would force her to stay in bed and she would go mad if that happened. She was use to being active. She was spending too much time in bed and it was rapidly driving her to distraction. Spending so much time in bed allowed her ample time to dwell on things that troubled her.

The dizzy spells that plagued her attempts to get out of bed were worrying her.

She was in so much pain that she had been persistently sick to her stomach since Rhett had brought her home from the hospital. During the day, she had to take breaks from examining the mines ledgers because out of nowhere, she would fall prey to gripping violent headaches that would disappear as inexplicably as they came.

She was determined to keep these troubling symptoms to herself. If she didn't improved a hundred percent then she'd be on bed rest indefinitely. That was not going to happen, not if she had to grit her teeth against the waves of agony that regularly engulfed her. She was Scarlett O'Hara Butler and nothing would stop her from getting what she wanted from life. One of Rhett's other turns of phrase came to her and she mouthed it to fully draw strength from his words...

_"What I want I take if I can get it, and so I wrestle neither with angels nor devils." _


	33. Vidi to see

A knock at her bedroom door took her from her grim thoughts and she received it gratefully. Nothing in life is solved by brooding, thought Scarlett recalling one of Mammy's favorite sayings.

"Come in," she called.

Rosemary opened the bedroom door and not seeing Rhett she let out a small sigh of relief. She had heard the front door, but she hadn't been completely sure if it was mama or Rhett who had left. "Scarlett, are you busy?" asked Rosemary timidly.

Scarlett gestured for her to come in. "Do I look busy?" she asked as she pulled herself back up into a sitting position.

Without being asked Rosemary fluffed the pillows behind Scarlett. "Not very." Rosemary sat down gracefully in the chair next to Scarlett's bed. "Has Rhett left?"

"Yes, nearly ten minutes ago, did you need to speak to him? He should be back soon."

Rosemary looked guilty arousing Scarlett's suspicions. Obviously this wasn't about hair or deportment.

"I need your advice."

"Oh. What about?" she asked evenly.

"Jason," Rosemary corrected her slip quickly, "I mean Doctor Cross."

"About yesterday?"

"Mama saw him walk me to the front gate."

Scarlett leaned forward her eyes were alight with excitement despite the potential trouble that Rosemary kissing Doctor cross would no doubt incite. "Did he kiss you?"

"On the street in front of my mother's house?" Rosemary shook her head vehemently to emphasize her point. "Certainly not, he kissed my hand." She regarded Scarlett with curiosity. "Why, did Rhett ever kiss you before you were married?"

That night at the Rough and Ready came immediately to the forefront of her mind even as the memory of the way he had kissed her when he had asked her to marry him fought for prominence. The way he had almost taken her on her desk at the mill when they had picnicked there the week they were married. They had kissed what was it, twice that afternoon. The first time had been light and really she had kissed him, not the other way around. The second time though, he had kissed her.

The words he spoke before he kissed her were imprinted on her heart and when she wished to she could call them up, verbatim. "I want to marry you because I want you so much that I don't know how much longer I could live with that longing." Then he kissed her and she kissed him back, kissed him back with a passion that not even Ashley had stirred in her.

His arms were around her and hers were around his neck holding him close. It wouldn't have mattered to her if someone were to walk in and find them like that. Nothing else was as important as the feelings that Rhett was stirring inside her. He bit her bottom lip gently, which caused her to moan aloud. "I want you," he whispered against her lips.

Rosemary's hand was gently as she placed it on Scarlett's arm. She took Scarlett's extended silence as a mark of disapproval. Rosemary never knew how far was too far with Scarlett. Sometimes she could ask her things that any other person of her acquaintance would have be shocked by even hearing about let alone discussing, but other times simple things caused her arched eyebrows to draw together and her green eyes would glow dangerously as though they would start shooting sparks any second. "Scarlett? I'm sorry; I had no right to ask you such a personal question."

Scarlett smiled at her sister in law to reassure her. Now that Scarlett knew that there was going to be more shared embraces with Rhett it was pleasant to look back on the handful of embraces she had shared with Rhett before their marriage. Rhett had stolen more kisses than she had ever realized and she fully intended to tease him about that later, when they were alone. "No, it wasn't that I promise you, I was just lost for a minute."

"Lost?"

"In memories. Yes, if you really want to know. Your brother did kiss me before we were married. He kissed me and to be completely truthful I kissed him back."

"Why did it take my brother so long to ask you to marry him?"

The question jarred her and she regarded Rosemary cautiously, something akin to fear was there in her searching emerald hued eyes. "Rosemary, are you using Rhett and I as some sort of yardstick to measure your own life against? Things between Rhett and I were always complicated, they still are. It seemed for a long time as though Rhett and I were traveling down two paths that ran side by side but never intersected in the same places." She laughed gently at her words. "I've been here too long, now I'm starting to speak in allegories. I just don't want to see you get hurt." She frowned slightly; Rosemary was obviously on her way to being in love with Jason Cross if she wasn't there already. That could only lead to trouble in the very near future. "I don't want to see Rhett hurt," she added softly.

"I don't want that either, but I want to live my life. I want to fall in love without worrying that someone might disapprove."

"Someone being Rhett?"

"Someone being Rhett," replied Rosemary firmly turning Scarlett's question into a statement. "He hates Jason because he's a Cross. He's so caught up by the past that he'd deny me a future just because of something that happened a lifetime ago. I wasn't even born when he shot Jason's older brother, neither was Jason. Why should we be the ones to pay for the actions of others?"

Scarlett's heart broke for the young woman in front of her. She was head over heels for Jason Cross and from their conversation yesterday Scarlett could see that Jason Cross was equally taken with Rosemary Butler. Was it fair that Rhett would never give them his permission to court? Fair or not it was Rhett's right to give or withhold his blessing and withhold it he would if he knew that Rosemary was falling in love with the handsome Doctor.

"Rosemary you are making my head ache even worse," Scarlett chided her gently, "This is like that stupid play Rhett took me to see in New Orleans on our honeymoon. Something about families that hated one another but then the boy from one family fell in love with the other family's daughter. All I remember was that they both died at the end."

"You mean Romeo and Juliet? With the Montague's and the Capulet's?"

"If you say so, I couldn't follow more than half of it."

Rosemary gasped quietly at this admission. Scarlett frowned, she was quickly becoming irritated. Rosemary was putting her in the position of confidant regarding her infatuation with Doctor Cross and while that was bad enough, being forced to discuss a play she had seen over 6 year ago was almost worse.

All she wanted to do was order Rosemary out of her room so she could pull the covers over her head till Rhett came back from the depot with the children. But she resisted the urge; Rosemary was rapidly becoming a real friend. She couldn't afford to alienate a friend, especially if that friend was Rhett's sister.

"I can't believe you didn't like it. It's one of the greatest love stories ever. Didn't you take anything away from it besides both the main characters died?"

"Yes, actually I took away a valuable lesson, see what happens when you don't listen to your parents," she said pointedly.

Rosemary glared at her. "Are you saying you always listened to your parents? If that were true you would have never married Rhett."

Scarlett's green eyes narrowed even as her lips compressed themselves into a thin line. "You are absolutely right. If my mother and father had lived I would have never been allowed to marry Rhett. My father didn't even like the idea of Rhett calling on me during the war. If Rhett hadn't gotten him roaring drunk and won all of the money he had on him my father would have dragged me back to Tara from Atlanta because I danced with your brother at a hospital fundraiser."

"Because Rhett wasn't received?" asked Rosemary naively.

"Because I was in deep morning for my first husband. Your brother bid on me. He bid 150 dollars, in gold, for the honor of leading the first reel of the evening with me when I was Mrs. Charles Hamilton. My husband had barely been dead a year. I was still in black from head to toe; I even had crepe on my bonnet. I was permitted to be in public because I was needed there to help sell things in one of the booths. The girls who were supposed to run the booth were called away. Half the matrons of Atlanta wrote my mother about my doings and she sent my father after me."

"How old were you?"

"What difference does that make? I was old enough to understand that what I did was scandalous." Scarlett added reluctantly. "I was seventeen."

"You were younger than I am now but you were willing to dance with my brother even though you had to know you parents wouldn't approve. I'm twenty-three. Surely that's old enough to make my own decisions. How old were you when you married my brother, twenty-two? Twenty-Three? You were old enough to decide, shouldn't I be afforded that same courtesy?" Her black eyes were so expressive. She was angry, angry with Rhett for standing in her way, angry with herself for wanting something that was bound to cause turmoil, but that anger wouldn't be enough to rein in her desire.

Scarlett's Irish was fully inflamed. How dare Rosemary compare them side-by-side as though their situations were the same? There was thinly concealed venom in her words as she spoke softly. "Rosemary, I was just twenty when the war ended. My mother was dead; the shock of my mother dying threw my father into a decline he never recovered from. It damaged something inside his mind and he was like a child. I became the head of my family. I worked like a field hand; I married my sister's beau to get the money I needed to pay the taxes on Tara. I had to…" she broke off suddenly, her anger abated by Rosemary's stricken expression.

She couldn't tell her husband's unmarried sister that she had had to lie beneath Frank and submit to his fumbling caresses and his awkward attempts at lovemaking. Allowing her body to be used like that still stung her pride. But what choice did she have at the time? Tara was worth stung pride; worth selling herself in matrimony to a man who physically repulsed her, Tara was worth everything she had done and more. Did she regret it? No. Finally she could admit to herself that she had only done what she had to. Faced with the same circumstances, she'd marry Frank again. Steal him from Suellen, marry him for money and not love. Yes, she'd do it all again.

"Scarlett, I didn't mean to upset you. I don't want to fight with you. You are the only person on my side."

"I don't want to fight with you either. I want you to be happy, do you truly believe Jason Cross will make you happy?"

Rosemary leaned forward and kissed Scarlett on the cheek. "You know I've come to realize that I love you, partly because Rhett does, but mostly because you are a better person than you believe yourself to be. I want you to be happy too. Don't worry about Jason and I. If we are destined to be together than fate will find a way."

"If you need advice you can come to me," offered Scarlett grudgingly, moved by Rosemary's words.

"I know that. I appreciate the offer, don't think I don't, but you and Rhett are finally making your ways back to one another. I refuse to put you in a position where you have to keep secrets on my behalf."

After promising to come back up to be introduced to her step niece and nephew when they arrived Rosemary left to run errands. Scarlett picked up one of the ledgers and happily lost herself in the world of numbers. At least numbers had no hidden agenda, unlike the people who manipulated them.


	34. actus reus guilty act

Bluesneak2001 or anyone who knows where is fallout, I would like to see how that ends please :D

**Her heart was beating so loudly she was sure his neighbors could hear it. Rosemary latched the white wooden gate behind her and sped down the slate path that ran along the side of Doctor Cross's house. She had nearly told Scarlett where she was going but that wouldn't have been very fair to Scarlett. After all that would have put Scarlett in the position to have to keep a potentially damning secret from Rhett. **

**A jaybird cawed shrilly and Rosemary nearly jumped out of her skin. This was so wrong but she couldn't think about that just now. She'd think about it some other time. What was it that Scarlett was always saying, "I'll think about it tomorrow." Her sister in law had an interesting approach to life, do what needs to be done then worry about the consequences later. **

**She had no doubts that Scarlett would have kept her secret, Rhett had said of Scarlett months ago that he had no doubts that she would leave on their agreed upon departure date because she had given him her word. **

**They had been out on the patio outside his office at the Landing and she had asked about the trip to Europe they had been planning. She had teased her brother about the possibility they might be buying three tickets if Scarlett was still attached to his side like a thistle burr in the spring. **

**"She's leaving in April, she gave me her word," Rhett had replied distractedly dropping his cigar to the ground and grinding it to near powder with his toe. **

_**Without meaning to Rosemary had laughed at his faith in the validity of Scarlett's word. **_

_**"How can you believe a word she says?" asked Rosemary skeptically. "Haven't you told me, many, many times she's not to be trusted?" **_

_**Rhett had run his hand through his hair before turning to look out across the still twilight illuminated still overgrown formal gardens of the Landing. "I could regale you with the various peccadilloes of Scarlett O'Hara but if she gives her word she won't go back on it." Rhett smiled sadly, "It's just one of those little idiosyncrasies that makes her so captivating." **_

_**"Captivating?" asked Rosemary, curious at his choice of words. **_

_**"What?" **_

_**"You said her idiosyncrasies are what make Scarlett so captivating." **_

_**Rosemary could just make out Rhett's solemn expression, his handsome face cast into shadow by the last errant beams of the setting sun. "I'm sure I said infuriating." **_

_**"I know you said captivating," replied Rosemary with a smirk. **_

_**"It doesn't matter, what matters is that in just a few months Scarlett will be out of my life, for good." **_

**Rosemary smiled recalling her brother's vehement statement of a few months ago that Scarlett would soon leave his life forever. Now he'd most likely lock her in her room if she even teased him about wanting to leave Charleston without him. **

**Yes, she had proven over the last week that she could be trusted, but Rosemary didn't want to place additional stress on her sister in law so she had kept her secret rendezvous to herself. Rosemary knocked on Doctor Cross's kitchen door. A moment later she could hear his light footfalls on the planked kitchen floor before he opened the door. **

**It would have been immediately apparent to a causal onlooker from his expectant expression that this was not a surprise visit. He had been waiting for her for the better part of an hour. "Rosemary, come in please." **

**She did as he asked, pausing for an indiscernible moment before entering his house, alone. "Jason, to be completely honest I wasn't going to come this morning." She laughed nervously, "What is it the French say, nothing is as sweet as the fruit that is forbidden?" **

**Jason closed the door behind her and lowered the rolled linen shade to conceal the occupants of his kitchen from prying eyes though with the vegetation running between his and his neighbor's property seeing into Jason Cross's kitchen would have been nearly impossible. Turning back to face Rosemary he smiled as he took her hands in his own and lifted them to his lips. He kissed first one then the other before lowering them. He did not release her hands after he finished instead he held them at waist level caressing them gently. **

**Rosemary flushed guiltily. "Rhett would never forgive me if he knew where I was right now." **

**Jason smiled wryly. His face was hard with barely concealed loathing at the mention of Rhett Butler and his words were laced with caustic dislike. "Well we will just have to insure that he doesn't find out. I'd hate to see him cut another notch for a Cross into his dueling pistols." **

**"Jason." Rosemary jerked her hands back. The anger in his voice startled her for a moment and she begun to contemplate the wisdom in coming alone to see Jason Cross. She flickered her eyes toward the door she had only just come through and wondered if it would be better to just leave now before further words were exchanged. **

**Instantly he was contrite in the face of her anger. "Rosemary, I'm sorry. We had an agreement and I'm the one who broke it." His face cleared and it was like looking at a different man. The flesh around his eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled at her, trying to win back some of the ground he had just lost in the space of a few sentences. **

**"I just don't want our future to be bogged down by someone else's past," she chided warningly. **

**"And I agree with you, but I just can't make myself look past your brother's crimes against my family or your ancestors." **

**Rosemary drew herself up, her back ramrod straight and her black eyes lost their excited sparkle. They were cold now, the same eyes that would be in the face of a Butler engaged in a duel, without feeling or pity they held only pride and purpose. "Then maybe we should just say adieu. I am, when all is said and done, a Butler, same as Rhett, same as every other Butler before us." **

**Jason gestured to the arched doorway just off the kitchen. "Please, let's go into my study. I was just about to have a cup of coffee, join me?" **

**She made no move to comply with his request. Standing her ground Rosemary asked gently. "Will you ever be able to see past my brother to see just me? Or will you just see the sister of the man who killed your brother and dishonored your sister?" **

**"Rosemary, when I look at you I see you. Only you. At Saint Cecilia's I didn't look at you and see a scion of the House of Butler, I saw you. I wanted to ask for a space on your dance card but I didn't want to cause you a moment of discomfort if you felt compelled to refuse me because of your brother." **

**"I won't have refused," admitted Rosemary softly. **

**"Will you have coffee with me?" he asked, his voice pledging with her for a chance. **

**Rosemary nodded and taking Doctor Cross's proffered arm she allowed him to escort her into his study for coffee. She knew the risk she was taking by seeing Doctor Cross alone in his house sans chaperon. But she had an alibi clearly written out in her mind. He was a doctor and she could be consulting him about some embarrassing female problem. That story had a fatal flaw in that her mother should have accompanied her, but she could always go with her second scenario, Scarlett. She hated using her sister in law in such a manner, but Rhett might believe that. And that scenario would only be necessary if he ever needed to know anything at all about her visit to Doctor Cross's home. She had slipped through Jason's back gate unseen and used the kitchen door so hopefully not a soul in Charleston besides Jason Cross himself knew her current location. **

**"So," asked Jason as Rosemary begun to pour out their coffee, "How is Scarlett this morning?" **

**"She's still very pale and tired." Rosemary gestured with the sugar tongs toward the sugar bowl, he shook his head and they smiled at one another, amused by their immense understanding of one another's gestures. "She's also terribly irritable," added Rosemary. "This morning she snapped at me, and I was being particularly charming." **

**"She's in a great deal of pain not to mention she's chomping at the bit for me to lift my bed rest orders. She tried to charm me, reason with me, and finally she resorted to all out begging, poor thing," he commented sympathetically. "I like Scarlett in spite of herself. She isn't physically very strong I suspect, but she has a will to survive that I've seldom seen in anyone; man or woman. I can't imagine what possessed your brother to take her sailing. I shouldn't't think she knows how to swim. He's lucky she didn't die." **

**Rosemary sprang to her brother's defense. "She asked him to. It was Rhett's way of obliging a final request, I think he wanted to have one last good day with her before she left." **

**"Final request? I don't follow your meaning. Scarlett was leaving Charleston without your brother?" **

**Rosemary nodded. Not wanting to give away secrets that weren't hers to tell warred with the need to confide in the man she loved but only for a moment. Haltingly, at first, she began to tell Jason all about how Rhett had practically abandoned Scarlett in Atlanta months before her appearance in Charleston at the start of the Season. He sat and listened quietly without clucking his tongue or making noises of disgust or judgment. Encouraged by his complete attention Rosemary disclosed nearly all the personal details of her brother and Scarlett's stormy, often adversarial courtship and marriage. **

**Without a thought for the consequences Rosemary even told Jason about Scarlett's miscarriage and the tragic accident that had killed her niece Bonnie. Finally purged of all the details that her brother had poured out one night in a torrent of anger and grief she shrugged delicately. "I feel terrible for both of them, they've been through so much just to get to where they are now." **

**"Which is where precisely?" asked Jason Cross speculatively. **

**"He had once loved her very much and I suppose realizing just how close he was to losing her rekindled that love." Rosemary smiled broadly, pleased that her story had a happy ending, "So now Rhett's wild about her again. He's planning to buy her something incredible for their anniversary in May. I think Scarlett is just about the most important person in the world to my brother. Even when he was planning to divorce her I thought that he wasn't being completely truthful when he said he no longer loved her." **

**Jason Cross, normally the most stoic and unshakable of people had to force his mouth to close after it gapped open in shock. He was flabbergasted by Rosemary's admission of Rhett's intentions. "Your brother was contemplating a divorce? My God, I don't think that he would have ever been granted a divorce. What would he have done then? Lived apart from his wife till the day one of them died? Surely he knew the odds were against a divorce being granted." **

**"You don't know Rhett very well. If he was really determined to divorce Scarlett he would have found a way." **

**Jason held up his hand to silence her. "I don't doubt your brother tenacity but I mean to say that while it's possible to secure a divorce in South Carolina I think only a handful have been granted. Even then it's an incredibly lengthy, often humiliating process. You also have to have irrefutable grounds." **

**"Rhett had grounds," said Rosemary without thinking. **

**"Rosemary, those grounds would have to be something earth shattering. The Supreme Court of South Carolina wouldn't just grant your brother a divorce because he no longer loved his wife. The court doesn't particularly care whether or not you love your wife. In fact I've heard talk that they'll be legislation to completely abolish hearing divorce proceedings in South Carolina in the very near future." **

**Desire to defend her brother's motives overrode her fondness of Scarlett. "Scarlett refused to allow my brother his congeal rights after their daughter was born. They slept in separate bedrooms in Atlanta. Even here at mama's they don't share the same room." **

**Jason processed that piece of information before commenting nonchalantly. "I assumed that was because Scarlett was ill?" **

**"No, they haven't shared a room the entire time she's been here." **

**Jason ran his hand over his chin thoughtfully as he took in the scandalous details of the Butler's marriage. Divorce, good God, there really were no limits as to how long Rhett Butler would sink. One detail caught him and even though it was bound to discomfort Rosemary he had to know. Curiosity demanded it. "If they were no longer intimate then how was it that Scarlett lost a baby after your niece was born?" **

**Rosemary blushed and ducked her head to hide the red rush of blood that mottled her complexion. "I'm not although sure how that happened. Mama and I went to Atlanta and there was a lot of talk but mama told me to disregard it. Perhaps they had reconciled." **

**"I suppose this was all after he visited here with his daughter. I saw you all one afternoon on the battery. You were wearing a lavender dress and a hat with streamers that kept blowing in the wind. They seemed to be blowing in your face the entire time, but you just laughed. I've carried the sound of your laughter in my mind since. Their little girl was beautiful. She resembled her mother a great deal." **

**Rosemary's face became closed as she thought about her beautiful young niece who had lifted the gloom that had hung over her and mama after father's death. They had both chaffed under the old tyrant's rule but when one becomes use to a lifestyle it becomes disconcerting to wake up one morning and find the boot pressing you down has been removed and you can stand proud all on your own without words of scorn or condemnation ripping your soul to shreds. **

**Jason was waiting for her to speak so she mouthed some platitudes about Bonnie before adding. "She did. I suppose that was one of the reasons Rhett loved Bonnie so much. Because he could give her all the love he couldn't give Scarlett." **

**Jason nodded dismissively as he glanced at the grandfather clock that slowly ticked off the seconds in a dry constant drone. Before rising from his chair Jason spoke, his tone of voice left no room for disagreement. "Rosemary you'd better leave otherwise we run the risk of discovery. If we are going to continue to see one another without your brother's permission we must be discrete. " **

**Rosemary stood and followed Jason back through the arched doorway to the kitchen door leading to the side path she had trod only an hour ago. "I hate this duplicity. Couldn't we just ask my brother? Maybe he'll surprise us both." **

**Doctor Cross leaned forward and brushed a kiss on Rosemary's forehead. "My sweet, naïve girl. Your brother would see me in my grave before he'd see me as his sister's beau. But if you only wait, I'll find a way to see you in the light of day, you trust me don't you. To find a way for us?" **

**She smiled enthusiastically. "Of course." **

**"Good, now run along home before your missed." He kissed her forehead again and for an instant Rosemary wished she were bold like Scarlett. Then she could snake her arms around his neck and kiss him again and again till they were both breathless. **

**Noticing her quickened breathing and slightly parted lips Jason Cross smiled gently. "Rosemary please, you must leave before I'm tempted to do something that I really would deserve to be shot over." **

**She nodded her assent not trusting her own tongue. With one last longing look Rosemary hurried to the gate and after making sure no one was on the street she unlatched the back gate.**


	35. Cross Purposes

Jason Cross closed the kitchen door. He was a patient man; nothing in his life was rushed or executed in haste. He raised the drawn shade allowing sunlight to gleam though the spotless window of his kitchen door. He parted the kitchen curtains allowing more sunlight into the room. With the curtains taken care of he made his way back to the room he and Rosemary had just vacated.

Her perfume, borrowed from her far worldlier sister in law no doubt lingered softly in the air of the room and he smiled faintly at its presence, a tangible reminder that she had been in his home. When he had suggested the previous day to Rosemary that she meet him at his house for morning coffee he was sure that fear of her brother would form her refusal but she surprised him, something very few people did. She accepted immediately with a blush and a soft hand on his arm.

Their coffee tray sat on the baroque ottoman that he had bought in New Orleans and he picked it up without so much as rattling a cup. Bringing the coffee tray into the kitchen Jason debated for only a moment what to do about it. The idea of the dirty coffee cups and a crumb littered tray waiting for the better part of the day to be dealt with displeased him so he rolled up his sleeves and polished the Tremain silver coffee service till it gleamed. The service had been in his family since just after the Revolutionary war and he treasured it not only as a family heirloom but as a testament to his clever sister. She had it sent abroad along with many of their most treasured possessions just before the War started.

Replacing the silver set would have been impossible he thought as he deposited it on its shelf. Returning to the dry sink he then methodically washed each cup out and rinsed the saucers in a basin of clean water. Normally he had a girl, Tia, who kept house for him, but she had been given the morning off to further insure that Rosemary's visit would go unnoticed.

Domestic chores did not repulse Doctor Cross. The ability to pick up after himself was something that had been ingrained in his character from an early age. As a boy he had followed his older sister Virginia throughout the day as she tended to all the tasks required to run the plantation or maintain the Cross townhouse.

His mother had died just days after his birth, but her passing wrought no hardship in his small world. Virginia had always been completely dedicated to him while his mother, exhausted from the bearing of a child at her advanced age, had never had the time or energy to devote the sort of attention to him that he craved. His father, while pleased to once more have an heir to carry on the Cross dynasty wasn't a man who was particularly fond of children so he left everything concerning his young son in Virginia's adoring hands

It had been Virginia who spoiled him, who shopped for new toys and his clothes. Virginia who was no longer as flighty and silly as she had been in her youth. Scandal had changed, made her attune to the old adage "what will the neighbors say." Virginia who had met with tutors for the Cross heir, so many nights she could be found in the library studying late into the night so that she would have a basis for her questions probing the quality of the education her brother would receive.

He never had a governess or a mammy. It was Virginia who sang to him and bandaged his cuts and scrapes. Virginia was the one who spun bedtime tales rivaling the Brothers Grimm. Her tales were always in the same vein; a beautiful but naïve princess is dishonored by a dark knight. Her brother, the handsome prince does battle with the dark knight but is killed by the treachery of the dark knight.

For years, even when he was nearly too old to be told bedtime fairy stories, he had listened gap mouthed to her bedtime stories, always begging to hear one in which the murdered prince and dishonored princess are avenged.

Then on the night before he was to start school she told him about his older brother, also called Jason, who was murdered by an enemy of their family. She wept as she told him how the man who had dishonored her had shot their handsome, reckless, charming brother in the back.

Even now as a grown man he could feel the familiar white-hot flame of rage that had risen in him when he had discovered that the bedtime stories Virginia had woven night after night for six years had been an allegory, a way for Virginia to disclose the shame of being a young woman with a ruined reputation and the sister to a man six years in his grave, put there by a man who should have died for what he had done to her.

"Ginny, maybe your husband will get him," he had told her as he sat against his pillows his face flushed with anger.

His sister had sighed as she tucked the covers around him. Her ebony hair was piled high on her head and her earbobs glinted in the light. She was so dark of hair and pale of skin that he always thought she had the look of fairy tale princess about her, but she wasn't a princess but instead a tragic heroine in her own right. "No one is ever going to marry me love. No nice family would ever have me for a daughter in law even though our ancestors were of noble blood." She brushed his hair away from his smooth brow and kissed it gently.

He breathed deeply; covertly, a little ashamed at how much he loved his older sister. She smelled delicious, like roses in the heart of summer and though he was angry that someone had done something so terrible to her he loved her with all his heart and he was grateful that she was still at home to take care of him and father.

"When I'm big Virginia I'm going to kill the man who killed Jason," he declared fiercely.

"Little love, don't say such things. Besides he isn't received any more so I doubt you'll ever encounter him, at least not here in Charleston."

"But someone should punish him for what he did," he cried. Jason was six; his entire world was ruled by the idea that wrong doings always earned a punishment.

Virginia had blown out the candle before speaking, her voice coming out of the darkness like that of an unseen angel shaded from his human eyes by the darkness of night.

"Death is too good for Rhett Butler. If anyone were to ever want to truly punish him they would destroy him and then let him live. Let him live surrounded by the ruins of his life, just as I've had to." She paused before whispering, "Why should he be granted an escape through death."

She clutched his hand in the darkness, her grip so tight he wanted to cry out but he forced himself to grip her hand back. "Jason, promise me, if the opportunity ever presents itself you won't kill Rhett Butler. There are worse punishments than death. If you love me enough to want to avenge me and Jason too, you'll find something more lasting than a bullet."

"More lasting than a bullet," he murmured as he put the last of the coffee spoons in the silver chest.

How he loved her, his beautiful sister who had to grow old without a husband or children of her own. His sister who had never had a home to call her very own till he had bought her one when he had returned from France in 1865. His clever sister who had seen the writing on the wall and upon his early graduation from Harvard Medical School in 1859 had arranged through European relatives a slot for him in the surgery program at Université de Montpellier, packing him off to France in the fall of 1860.

With father dead just after his fourteenth birthday there had been no one to stop her when she sold the townhouse on the Battery and many of their possessions to give him a generous bank draft to deposit in the Crédit Mobilier in Paris.

When he had returned from France, a highly skilled physician, he had returned with all the money she had given him plus a sizable fortune he had accumulated treating the numerous ladies attached to Napoléon III and his courtiers.

He had come to the notice of the self-created emperor largely because of his native country. When the war had broken out in America Napoleon III had declared his unofficial support for the Confederacy. He had been informed by one of his court physicians, Doctor Claude Berte, that one of the Doctor's most brilliant students was an American from the city where the first shots of the war in the Americas had been fired

The Emperor had been most eager to have the young man come to speak with him. He found the young Doctor engaging and cultivated something of a friendship with the young man. He finally went so far as to extend an invitation to the young man to take up residency at his Paris palace.

Doctor Cross enjoyed the notoriety that came from being a palace intimate. It gave him a pleasant rush to be able to tell a shopkeeper to have his parcels delivered to Château de Fontainebleau, the crown jewel of all the residences of the Emperor. It smoothed over the other notoriety that was attached to his name, services he was expected to perform for the Emperor or rather for the Emperor's paramours.

He felt no heavenly contrition was required for the acts he performed in the Emperor's service. Religion was simply not an issue in his life. He was an atheist, after all how could he believe in a loving all powerful God. What sort of God would allow a woman like Virginia to suffer? What kind of God would allow his brave brother to be shot in the back by a scoundrel?

His mind was often on Virginia. He wanted to return to Charleston once war was declared but she forbad him and despite his natural arrogance a lifetime of obeying Virginia without hesitation was not so easily cast off. He had asked her if she instead wished to join him in France. He had more than enough money to bring her if she wished to come but she declined saying that she wanted to remain at Rose Vale.

Out of sight was, however; not out of mind. She wrote to him during their separation. When the mail became unreliable from South Carolina she sent her letters with blockade runners to be posted in England. Her letters were pure Virginia, filled with worry and love. But then there were other elements in her letters. Passages plainly denouncing the Emperor and his intentions toward the South and the Confederacy were commonplace.

Jason Cross, known in France as Docteur Croix, loved his sister but that love didn't make him blind to the disaster her letters could bring to his position in palace society. Telling her that he had set up housekeeping with several comrades from school he gave her an address on the Rue de Saint-Marie to send her letters to. A widow that cleaned the dormitories at the Université lived at the address and for a few francs a week she would send one of her sons, of which she seemed to have an endless supply, to the Château to deliver his letters for Virginia.

One letter that stood out as worrisome, it had been immediately consigned to the fire after he read it, had said that Napoléon was driven by a desire to keep the United States spilt in two not a belief in the rights and sovereignty of the Confederacy. Her letters were always filled with the glory of their Confederacy and its noble cause.

Though he tried to answer her letters with enthusiasm he felt so far removed from it all. Why should he care whether the Union triumphed or the Confederacy rose victoriously as a new nation? Free the darkies or lash them with buggy whips till they obey, what did it matter to him?

Still she was his sister and he loved her more than any other person in the world so he had been so pleased to write to her in the fall of 1861 that Napoleon had entertained the Confederate diplomats William Lowndes Yancey Pierre A. Rost, and Ambrose Dudley Mann. The French foreign minister Edouard Thouvenel received the group unofficially at Château de Fontainebleau with his Emperor.

Doctor Cross had been summoned by the Emperor to the secondary throne room. Once he arrived he was met by no less that Thouvenel himself. Taken aside by the second most powerful man in France he had been composed and cool waiting for Mousier Thouvenel to speak which he did with a mixture of imperiousness and pleading. To be spoken to thusly by such a powerful man had the same effect narcotics might. He felt an elation that was so great he had prayed that he'd never lose the feeling.

"Docteur Croix, thank God for you. My English is fair and the Emperor's is exemplarily after his years of exile in England but of the Americans only Mousier Rost speaks French but it is imperfect and the other gentlemen speak English with accents which are so heavy I cannot make how you'd say sixes or sevenths of it. Please Docteur, the Emperor asks will you attempt to smooth the way for us all?"

Oh how he had reveled in his importance during that week. Virginia had written him several weeks later to send him a clipping from The Liberty, the newspaper of the Confederacy, discussing in detail the meeting between dignitaries in the French government and the Confederate Diplomats. He had been mentioned as the voice of the Confederates not once but several times. He had been billed as a learned patriot of the Confederacy who after having been unable to return to the South after the session of states had used his unexpected exile to further the good name of the Confederacy abroad.

As a sort of joke of the people back in Charleston he then wrote numerous letters to the editors of dozens of magazines and newspapers in Paris and London supporting the Confederacy. He wrote of its bravery in the face of adversity, its struggle to maintain a way of life in the face of invaders forgiven to that way of life. His letters were a favorite of editors on both sides of the channel, not because of the subject manner but rather because of his eloquence and the seeming earnestness of the man writing in praise and defense of his homeland many of his letters were printed, some several times as they sparked debates.

He sent every one of his appearances in print to his sister, knowing that she would take great pride in being able to brag about her brother, the closest thing she had to a man at the front. And brag she had till every man and woman in Charleston heard of the service he had rendered to the Cause.

When he had returned to Charleston in October of 1865 he had been hailed as a sort of unofficial diplomat for the Cause and he had behaved according, speaking of numerous impassioned debates he had been involved in about the rights of the south and the majesty of the Cause.

He wanted to rebuild the Cross family and its place in Charleston society. Not that he gave a good God damn about Rose Vale, that had been his father's pride and joy and it had rankled him that the place hadn't been burned to the ground. Not entirely because it was where Virginia had stayed during much of the war but he hated the place and it didn't matter to him that it had escaped the torches of the Yankees.

If Rose Vale stood as a testament to disappointment that Dunmore Landing had been a boon beyond measure. He had ridden over to Dunmore Landing to gleefully to bear witness to the devastation that had befallen the once grand home of the Butlers. His elation knew no bounds as he looked at the burnt shell that had once been the main house.

That afternoon he had smoked a cheroot while idly appraising the damage. No it would never been the great house it had once been. It would take a man with foresight and force of will to bring the ruins of Dunmore Landing back to majesty once more. Even in his kitchen seven years later he could remember the charred smell of the entire place. He had been seated on Macduff, the horse he had brought back from France at great personal expense. Macduff had been a final gift to the young docteur from the Emperor of France and his papers bore the flures de lies of the House of Bonaparte. He could hardly wait to offer Macduff for stud and causally display the crest of the royal house of France when asked for documentation of the stallion's bloodlines.

It suited him to have a horse that had in its veins the blood of noble blooded animals. He enjoyed possessing the best of the best. From horses and his clothes to wine and women. One of the women he had taken to his bed in France had been a former mistress of the Emperor of France himself.

Jason Cross had appreciated all that an affiliation with the royal house had offered. He had sometimes accompanied the Emperor's nephews and Thouvenel's only son on their various adventures in the most exclusive of bordellos and gentleman's clubs. He had enjoyed the courtesans that came from Venice to make their fortunes in Paris where rich men married for love, or at least supported for lust. He had bedded young actresses and flawlessly beautiful opera dancers. Life in Paris had been a banquet and he had left the table a satisfied man.

There had been so many women, lost in a blur of techniques and variety. He had enjoyed Sweedes, Germans, Italians, and numerous other women of many nations but never so much as one married woman. A man could be excused for pursing beautiful woman of known easy virtue, but never had he met a single woman worth risking the inevitable scandal that came from bedding a woman who was already spoken for. Virginia's place as a virtual outcast for all practical purposes had taught him how dear the price of folly was.

Retiring to his library he began to translate his notes from French into English. One patient in particular was on his mind and he leafed through his notes on her adding a notation about her miscarriage. Was there no end to the tragedies one woman could be forced to endure?

Scarlett Butler was beautiful. Even pale and sick in bed she radiated a haughtier that was alluring. She was so very French whether she knew it or not. Perhaps that was part of her allure? He had enjoyed many French women, could her French blood explain why he felt such a strong rush of emotion when he thought of her?

But then it was not really necessary to examine where his attraction for her came from. Her expressions changed so rapidly that he sometimes felt as though he was involved in a discourse with three women not just one. Her hair begged him to run his hands through it; one minute gently like a lover come home to his beloved and then just as easily those thick locks would move him to thoughts of threading his hand in them to pull back her head to leave the pale long column of her neck exposed. Her lips pursed with displeasure at his prognosis made him dwell on what it might be like to take them in a kiss that would show her exactly what he felt.

But she was a married woman so she was out of reach. He treated her with far more deference than any of his other patients. She was a Butler by marriage which put her in the enemy camp but it amused him to be kind to her to watch Rhett Butler's distaste for him crack the surface of the carefully cultivated mask of ennui he always wore in public.

Scarlett was sadly not an option but Rosemary would do. She was lovely to look at and young. She was the cherished only sister of the man who had dishonored his own sister. She was the sister of the man who had murdered his older brother. She came from a bloodline that was every bit as pure as his own even if it was slightly tainted by her pirate ancestor.

Yes, Rosemary was one of the final pieces in his carefully laid out plans. With her on his arm in public and in his bed in private, Rhett Butler would be enraged. He had nothing as heinous as an eye for an eye in mind for pretty Rosemary Butler. No his intentions toward her could be in the right light considered honorable, after all what would be more honorable than marriage?


	36. initio The begining

**Ok I only told half the truth, Rhett's in this chapter. Scarlett will be joining us shortly.**

**I find myself in a difficult position, I keep using the word darkies, that works right...and I can not bring myself to even consider the N word despite the fact it appears many times in GWTW so darkies it is I suppose.**

**the phrase with star means "that goes with out saying" in French**

**Sally Brewton is shamelessly molded on Jean Smart the only actor I really liked in the miniseries but I do not quote the miniseries just the character interpretation**

Rhett hurried down the sidewalk on King Street. 'Damn,' he thought, 'Perhaps I shouldn't have stopped to speak to Scarlett. That short delay had caused him to leave for the station much later than he had intended. Not that Emily needed him to meet her, but he wanted to be there to greet Wade and Ella. He was a little apprehensive at seeing them again. It had been nearly a year since he'd left Atlanta. They had been happy to see him when he'd come to say goodbye to Mammy at Tara but that had been so long ago.

Ella would be glad to see him. She was such a sweet tempered little girl. He knew that she wouldn't hold his long absence against him; it was Wade that concerned him. The boy was his son every bit as much as he was Charles Hamilton's, really more so than the long deceased Charles. He had raised him and loved him for most of his life. But Wade was nearly twelve; old enough to see how much Scarlett had been hurting after his desertion.

In spite of being intimidated by Scarlett Rhett knew that the boy loved her with a fierce loyalty that superceded his admiration for his stepfather. Which really was as it should be, reasoned Rhett logically. He just hoped that Wade didn't bear him a great deal of animosity because of his treatment of Scarlett, though if he did they would just have to sort things out. The Butlers were going to be a real family, the sort of family that would provide love and stability for their children. Glancing at his pocket watch Rhett increased his stride a little in an attempt to reach the station before the children's train arrived.

"Why my goodness Rhett Butler, where are you in such a hurry to get to this fine morning?" Sally Brewton maneuvered the pony trap she drove to the side of the street with a wide grin.

Despite his lack of time Rhett stepped to the curb to smile up at Sally who was seated in the pony trap that Miles had bought her after she had broken her collarbone for the umpteenth time. Sally was an avid rider and a terrible horsewoman, which made for an unfortunate combination. "Does Miles know that you are so bold as to start conversations with lone men of dubious reputations?"

She jerked the reins to halt the cantankerous mare that pulled her carriage. "Of course he does. How do you think he and I met? I coerced him into courting me. If it had been left to him he'd be a bachelor and I'd be an old maid. Can I give you a ride somewhere?"

"That would be most appreciated." He climbed into her trap and sat beside her. This was one of the things he most enjoyed about being home in Charleston again, the faces of old friends. Sally's monkey face was one of the faces he'd missed the most. In that respect what he had told Scarlett the year before in their house in Atlanta had been true, he had been leaving to seek out a place where roots ran deep.

He had known Sally Brewton all of his life and between them were thousands of shared memories. They had private jokes shared between the two of them and he found it a joy to be in her company so regularly once more after so many years.

"Would you like to take the reins?" she asked with a smile. It was an old joke between them. Rhett was one of the few men of her acquaintance that could sit beside her in the trap and not immediately expect to be handed the reins.

"Hand them over," he ordered imperiously.

She extended her hand to him sans glove. "Is my hand cold?"

He grinned as he took it and raised it to his lips to brush a kiss on the back of it. This too was part of their habitual banter. "Why no Mrs. Brewton, I'd say it's quite warm."

"Well then I suppose you won't be taking the reins." She said with a wink.

"Why's that?"

"Because I'd only give them to you over my cold dead body."

He laughed genially as he defied convention by giving her a kiss on her cheek. She clicked to the horse and flapped the reins lightly. "Where am I taking you?"

"To the depot."

"Going somewhere?" she teased him with a raised eyebrow.

"No."

"Meeting someone?"

"Maybe," he said giving her an enigmatic smile.

"Your sphinx act might have worked if your mother hadn't told me Scarlett's children were arriving this morning." She grinned knowingly. "How is Scarlett feeling?"

He smiled broadly, the events of the previous night still very much on his mind. Sally smirked lightly. Rhett was one of the most handsome men she'd ever known and now that he was so obviously happy he was even more so.

"Well? How is Scarlett?"

"Wonderful." A moment ago she would have thought that his grin could grow no wider, she had been wrong. Now he had a sly grin on his lips and a far away look in his eyes. Sally would have been willing to bet her entire stable that she knew exactly who had inspired his grin.

She laughed jovially. "You dog."

"I beg your pardon," he said inflicting innocence into his tone.

"From the look on your face I'd say she's on her way to making a full recovery…and then some."

He pinched her cheek lightly. "A gentleman never tells."

Laughing she gave his hand a light smack for his impertinence. "And a lady never asks…now tell me every detail. Did she make you get down on your knees when you apologized for all your past misdeeds? My giddy aunt, you look for all the world like a callow youth of about sixteen gone courting for the first time. "

Lighting a cigar he shrugged as he nonchalantly shook out the match and threw it in the street. "I haven't a clue what you are going on about?"

"Liar. Either you tell me or I will simply ask Scarlett." Sally rolled her eyes while employing a great deal of exaggerated facial expression. "Of course then I'm sure it will be a testament to the magnificence that is Rhett Butler and I don't know how much of that I can abide."

"I never knew you thought I was magnificent. Fear not I won't tell Miles." He smiled at her so charmingly that she only snorted boisterously.

"How a sweet thing like Scarlett ended up with a rascal like you is beyond me."

Now it was his turn to pretend to be incredulous at her words. "Sweet thing? We are talking about my Scarlett aren't we?"

"Your sarcasm doesn't fool me a bit. For a man who is such a fine card player you can't bluff when it comes to how you feel about her. It's different now isn't it? Tell me you're still going to divorce Scarlett, can you?"

His face was wiped clean of all amusement. Earnestly he told her "Sally, she loves me."

"That's old news, tell me something new," she replied roguishly.

"Old news to you perhaps, but I've told myself for years that she couldn't possibly ever love me. I convinced myself that she only wanted me because I told her that I no longer wanted her. I thought it was the challenge of regaining my love that brought her to Charleston."

She extended her right hand toward him and he placed his half smoked cigar between her pointer and middle fingers. She brought it to her lips and took several drags before exhaling a series of smoke rings. She passed it back to him with a self satisfied smile. "You are like a tonic to me Rhett Butler. Five minutes in your company and I'm completely rejuvenated."

"How so?"

"Because you truly are the last one to know. Intuitive Rhett Butler who sees through common mortals as though they were as transparent as glass missed what even the dullest of house darkies could see. Your wife is in love with you. Your mother could see it, Miles and Eustace saw it." Though she didn't raise her voice her tone became slightly sharp with him. "Hell, why do you think I took up for her at the beginning of the season?"

"Frankly I had wondered."

"You silly old fool. You are one of my dearest friends and I love you madly. Oh I like Scarlett, she is peppery and I like that. Reminds me of myself a bit when I was her age, except for the belle of the county we both know that I certainly was never that. I wanted Scarlett to be comfortable here in Charleston so she could focus on getting you back. She loves you and more over you love her. That charms me Rhett. I like to see a man in love with his wife and vice versa."

He smiled fondly at her quips, this morning everything in his life was as near perfect as he could hope it to be. The children were coming and he was bringing them home to their mother, his beautiful wife. "Then come to mother's house when Scarlett's off of bed rest."

She punched his arm lightly. "Oh for the love of heaven say it out loud Rhett. I promise I won't even tell you I told you so."

He didn't bother to pretend. He knew exactly what it was Sally Brewton wanted to hear directly from his lips. "I love her Sally. I love her now more than I ever thought possible."

It was as though a crushing weight was being removed from his chest, stone by stone each time he confessed his love for Scarlett out loud. He turned to look at Sally. She glanced in his general direction and nodded encouragingly before returning her attention to navigating Market Street. "I suppose that isn't completely true, I've always known that I've loved her more than any other woman in the world. I just never thought it would be possible to show her how much."

"Buy her a house."

Sally's matter of fact statement cracked his normal composure. She was in earnest, that was easily apparent and it confused him. Had Scarlett told Sally that she wanted a house in Charleston? "Why?"

Her voice was gentle and her words kind and she spoke softly. "Darlin', What have you got waiting for you in Atlanta? Nothing but a house you hate filled with awful memories and town inhabited by a gaggle of gossips waiting to tear her to pieces. Here in Charleston she's accepted, oh some of the Old Pea Hens club think she's a little to à la mode for their tastes, but I think she's just au courant."

"There's a difference?"

She drew herself up primly before replying sternly. "There is if I say so, after all I am the Queen Pea Hen. Old age has it's perks, what's more I'll continue to champion her and then of course there's Miss Eleanor. Your mother adores Scarlett. And what about Rosemary."

Rhett raised an eyebrow sardonically. His mother had commented several times over the last few days about the positive, ladylike influence Scarlett had become in Rosemary's life. Now Sally was saying practically the same thing. Perhaps he'd have to pay a little more attention to the friendship that seemed to be rapidly developing between his wife and sister. "What about Rosemary?"

"Why Rosemary is, and please forgive the figure of speech, but Rosemary is blooming and I know it's because of her friendship with Scarlett. Then there is you."

"What about me," he asked her quietly.

She was serious now, friend-to-friend. Laying all her cards on the table she spoke carefully, not wanting to inadvertently offend him but still seeking just the right words to tell him about the major change she had noticed in his overall demeanor. "You looked so ecstatic earlier that I'm surprised you weren't whistling a cheerful tune while you walked to the station. In the months before Scarlett arrived you were in the dourest of moods. Every word out of your mouth when we were alone was either a barbed comment about the hypocrisy of Charleston society or you were well…" she paused for a moment but Sally Brewton was nothing if not honest so she continued with a shrug, "You were constantly unpleasant and half desperate for a drink. Or five."

"I hadn't realized," he replied softly.

"ça va sans dire, you couldn't have because you were damaged. You looked through people; I could tell that you were just making your way through each day as though it were a task to be accomplished not a blessing. You and I are getting too old to take days for granted. Or people." She added pointedly.

His lips twisted into a self-mocking grin. "You are at your most irritating when you're right."

"Miles has been telling me that for years. Now aren't you glad that you didn't file those damn papers."

His expression changed once more. His dark eyes clouded slightly at the thought of what had been sitting locked away in the top drawer of his desk for the better part of the season. "I don't even want to think about that." He shook his head before commenting, "I had them drawn up Sally, I was going to ask her to sign them when she left Charleston. I have nearly lost Scarlett more times than I care to consider. No more."

"Where are they now?"

"I burned them."

She nodded her head once, emphatically expressing her approval. "Rhett, that was one of the most intelligent things you've ever done."

"It seemed like the only thing to do. It'd occurred to me that it wasn't wise to leave them lying around, they were a tangible reminder of just how close Scarlett and I were to losing each other. We are starting over and we've agreed to both try and let the past stay just that, in the past." He laughed ruefully, "I had to dispose of the divorce papers for my own sake as well as Scarlett's. It would be just my luck, we would be arguing about some trivial thing and she'd come across the blasted things and then we'd be right back to where we started."

"I'd like to be asked to be godmother when the baby is born?"

"What baby?" he asked, as his eyes narrowed.

"Don't be dense, with the way you're mooning over her I expect it will only be a matter of time. I've never been asked to stand godmother before. After all I gave Scarlett a hound, the least she could do is return the favor."

"I suspect she wouldn't see the two as being the same sort of honor."

"Spoken like a cat person," she replied smartly.

"I am most certainly not a cat person."

"Really, then explain the green eyed hellcat you married."

He threw his head back and roared. "Sally, for all that you protest you are a romantic at heart. Who would have thought it?"

"You've found me out. Well for heaven's sake, don't tell anyone, you'll ruin my reputation." She stopped the trap just before the depot. "Now here we are and out you get. By the by, tell Miss Eleanor to expect me this afternoon for tea."

"I didn't know she'd invited you," he said as he stepped down from the trap.

"Then you're in the same boat as you're mother, she didn't invite me, I'm inviting myself. I've seen most of the wonders of Europe, but Rhett Butler in love is something I don't think I could ever get tired of seeing."

She snapped the reins smartly and continued on her way with a cheery "good luck" and a backward wave. Rhett lips curved upward in a grin. Between Sally Brewton and Julia Ashley when Scarlett got back on her feet she would be well on her way to becoming one of the most sought after women in Charleston. It was a shame that most of his future plans centered on monopolizing nearly all of her free time. They had many wasted years to make up for and he was eager to get started.


	37. cogitatus reflections

**Ok I swear this forced me to post it. And there is a cliff hanger, excited :D**

As she sat up in bed working her way through the second ledger book from Rhett's mines Scarlett noticed, not for the first time, how strangely sound traveled through the house that Rhett had purchased for his mother on the battery.

He had tried to explain the architecture of the house to her one evening while they had sat on the piazza overlooking the harbor. It seemed, now in light of recent developments, that their tense conversation that evening was a lifetime ago. How he had hated her then. What a difference a few months and a near death experience could make.

That conversation had taken place during the strangely warm days of mid-December while they were so far from reconciliation that they had both stepped gingerly over the various pitfalls that can so easily crop up in what to most people would be polite conversation.

_They were at cross-purposes although their positions were now, after nearly a decade, reversed. He only wanted her to leave and she only wanted to stay. He wouldn't cut her directly, even when they were alone, but worse than a direct affront to her face he treated her as an acquaintance. _

_He constantly made it clear that to him she was only someone to treat with a queer sort of courtesy. He treated her not as the woman who he had passionately loved once. Not as the woman who had borne the child he loved with every fiber of his being. Now instead of treating her as his wife he seemed to pretend they were lodgers at the same boarding house, polite only to preserve the peace._

_At dinner that night he had addressed several comments to her because of his mother's presence, but they were general statements about the unseasonably warm weather and the upcoming balls of the season. He never mentioned plans for the future or anything remotely personal. He didn't even mention the Landing, as though he was afraid of discussing something he held dear with her, he acted as though her attention might somehow taint the Landing in his eyes. _

_Her heart ached in her breast. She would give anything to be at dinner in their hotel in New Orleans on their honeymoon again. Then they had laughed and teased and toasted one another with extravagant praise and humor. Now they barely spoke except to placate Miss Eleanor's concerns._

_That particular evening after she had tried to choke down dinner under his polite distracted gaze, she had closeted herself in the sanctuary of her room. It room that was as elegant as it was comfortable. A room that was, in its simple elegance, more inviting to her than any room in the mansion that Rhett had built her in Atlanta. The cream colored wallpaper with it's feathered honey colored pattern gave an illusion of size that fooled casual assessments of size. _

_The bed was neither too hard, nor to soft; it was just like the tiniest bear's bed in the fairy tale Melanie had read to Wade and Beau at Tara, just right. There was a large inviting chair with a honey tufted cushion that she had spent many hours in planning her campaign against Rhett's obstinate refusals. The lamps with their blown glass globes shone with simple brass hardware and the amber stained floorboards gleamed like satin. _

_She felt at home for the first time in years. Ironically, this house was as far from a permanent home as she could get. This was a temporary stopping point for her; a room that after she left Charleston she'd never see again. Surveying the room carefully she took it all in, burning it in to her memory. She wanted to keep this feeling of comfort and belonging with her forever, even if it was only a carefully decorated illusion of welcome and security. _

_In all it was a beautiful room that any guest would be grateful to occupy during a visit. Visiting, that's what she was doing in this beautiful bedroom. It wasn't her room, it was simply a comfortable guest room decorated to make the guest comfortable through the duration of their visit. _

_The word mocked her, in a voice that was as loud as a scream in her mind though no sound came from her throat. A visitor. She was a visitor in her husband's life. How had their lives come to this? She thought wrestling with tears of pain and frustration._

_She would leave Charleston if she failed, to leave without Rhett would leave her heart battered and bleeding. How could she leave Rhett, never to lay eyes on him again? To live without his jests and comforting words? Never to be held in his strong arms and be told that he cared? _

_No. She would be desolate without him in her life. Her heart would break into shards, fit only for the dustbin. _

"_Calm yourself Katie Scarlett O'Hara Butler," she murmured to herself. She thought She never bothered to add Charles or Frank's surnames when she spoke to herself. Why should she? Neither Frank nor Charlie, "God rest their souls", she muttered as an afterthought, mattered in the way Rhett did. God help her, he mattered more than the stores, or the properties, more than her large bank account. What did it matter how much she was worth when Rhett acted as though she wasn't worth a thing to him. _

_She only wanted his love. Once she had only wanted wealth and security from him. Now she ached to share his bed and his life. She had been so sure of herself when she had set out for Charleston, but time was quickly slipping through her fingers like the sand in an hourglass. It was nearly New Year's, or it would be in a little less than two weeks. That only left January and February to try and prove to Rhett that she loved him enough to warrant a second chance. _

_The air in the room was stifling, or at least it felt that way to Scarlett. She flung open the French doors that lead to the piazza, taking deeps breaths of air into her constricted lungs. 'Breath Scarlett, breath,' she ordered herself. _

_She shivered lightly at the cool air caressing her face. Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes for some unknown reason. Surely she wasn't about to have some sort of fit. She wasn't a muddle-headed vaporous adolescent. She had run two lumber mills, kept her family feed and sheltered, and borne three children. She was a survivor and she would be damned if she let Rhett Butler beat her. _

_Though she was in a state of emotional turmoil a sort of otherworldly calm had begun to descend over her. Her natural instinct for survival was taking over, just as it had during the other numerous dark moments of her turbulent life. She would carry on; with or without him. No matter if her heart was dead, she would and could live the rest of her life without it. It would be agony but it wasn't impossible. Nothing was impossible if you had courage enough to put one foot in front of the other to bring you ever forward. The secret would be to never look back, not ever._

_She rubbed her temple with the tips of her fingers trying to blot out the aching pain building in her brain. Now it was a dull throb, but by the time she was ready to turn in she would have a full blown headache and the thought of pending agony only made her sigh deeply. _

"_Scarlett, are you ill?" _

_Her head snapped up and she forced herself to keep her faced devoid of any sign of emotion at seeing him. He had been leaning against the railing, watching her the whole time. She flushed and shook her head. "No. My room was a bit warm, I must be overheated." _

_She turned to go back inside but he stopped her with a word. _

"_Don't."_

_She answered him without intending to. "Don't what?"_

_His face reveled nothing and his voice was carefully polite. 'Guests in the same boarding house' sounded in her mind. "Don't go back inside on my account. This balcony is fairly large. No doubt we can both occupy it without coming to blows." _

_She shrugged delicately. "I really just wanted a breath of fresh air, I hadn't planned on coming outside." She could be every bit as distant as he could, she thought. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you. Good evening." That would show him, she could treat him with careful courtesy. She didn't want him to know just how much his behavior was affecting her._

_He watched not her face but her eyes. They were troubled and just a little dull. She was sad and he felt responsible for at least a portion of her sadness. He could tell that she was embarrassed that he had seen her in a moment of weakness. He knew how much she detested weakness, in others but also in herself. He wanted to agitate her, to bring some life into her weary eyes. He wanted to see the fire and thirst for living that was currently somewhere deep inside her. He wanted to see the real Scarlett suddenly, the Scarlett he had fallen in love with, not this strained tense stranger. "Scarlett."_

"_Yes?"_

"_Don't play the coy ingénue. It doesn't suit you." _

_She bristled and her eyebrows drew together as her forehead wrinkled with the narrowing of her eyes. "I haven't the faintest idea what you mean." _

"_I don't doubt that," he remarked as he flicked the ash from his cigar into a small saucer he had brought outside for that very purpose. Words from Shakespeare came to mind as he watched the light of battle illuminate her emerald eyes. 'A hit, a very palatable hit,' he quoted to himself._

_He was mocking her again? How utterly typical of him really. He was always the first to say they could co-exist peacefully and then he'd make some sort of nasty backhanded comment that he'd then claim she had misunderstood. She wouldn't fallen into their old patterns, not tonight, she couldn't deal with his innuendos and barbed comments. Not with a headache fast approaching. _

"_So much for us being able to both be out here without antagonizing one another, if you'll excuse me." _

"_No I don't believe I will." He put his cigar out and beckoned to her. "Stay, please. I wouldn't want you to become overheated in your room and faint." _

_Her eyebrows rose in mock ire at the suggestion she might faint before she smiled faintly at him to show him she was amused at the thought of her swooning. "Fiddle Dee Dee, don't talk nonsense Rhett Butler. Me, faint? The very idea." _

"_You're as pale as a ghost," he remarked casually. _

"_I'm just tired. I was at the convent nearly all afternoon and I all but ran to get here in time for supper." _

"_I see. How go your efforts supplicating Christ's anointed representative?" _

"_In English, if you please," she quipped smartly though she was well aware of what he was asking. Her headache was worse. She only wanted to go back inside and draw the shades but she'd be damned if she would leave the battlefield before the high and mighty Rhett Butler._

_He grinned at her saucy words. For a moment he looked so like the Rhett that she had known during the war, the Rhett that had teased her and spoiled her with small gifts and attention. Whether it was that or the heat or her headache , she would never know for certain but something cause her knees to suddenly buckle beneath her. She would have fallen to the ground if his strong arms hadn't caught her around the waist and supported her. She blinked quickly trying to clear the tentacles of fog that tried to wrap themselves around her drawing her down in to nothingness. _

_Scarlett was so distracted by her moment of weakness that she didn't notice the look in his dark eyes. If she had she would have immediately seen that he was concerned with her well-being, his face wiped clean of mockery or polite disinterest. Now he was fully focused on her, as though she was the only thing in his world that mattered. "Scarlett, look at me."_

_She tilted her head back, her shining green eyes meeting his dark, penetrating gaze. "You hardly touched your dinner," he remarked accusingly. He wanted to be angry with her but mostly he was angry with himself for noticing or caring._

"_I wasn't hungry," she stated simply. _

"_Are you now?"_

"_Not particularly."_

_He sighed heavily but said nothing else. His first instinct was to draw her even closer and bury his lips in her hair, though she could never and would never known that. The palms of his hands rested just above the small of her back. She smelled delicious, like roses in the beginning of spring, his treacherous mind noticed._

_Damn it, he still wanted her. The end of the season couldn't arrive soon enough to suit him. He wanted to push her away from him, but he was afraid she would faint and then he'd have to carry her into her room, to her bed. No. It was difficult to hold her and not claim her lips with his, but he would preserver. While she was standing he could control his insane urges. In her bedroom, lowering her to her bed, that was another situation entirely._

_He could just picture it, Scarlett cradled in his arms, willing to let him make love to her. Him laying her down on the bed and her arms drawing him down till he kissed her breathless. That was a scenario that had a disastrous outcome just waiting to unfold. It had been two years since the night of Ashley Wilkes surprise party and the memories of that night still haunted him at inopportune moments. _

_Yes he wanted her, but not the way that she needed to be wanted. For herself and not her lust inspiring body. At least he tried to tell himself, that it was just her body invoking these feelings within him._

_She rested her palm of his forearm to bring his attention back to her. It was agony to have to pretend her touch no longer affected him. He couldn't possibly want her as much as he thought he did, could he? She certainly couldn't want him as much as she claimed to. She only wanted what she couldn't have, him. If he capitulated now, how long till she grew tired of him once more? A week, a month, a year. He couldn't allow her to get under his skin once more. He was nearly free of her. _

_And yet…he was almost willing to open himself to her attempts to win him back just to see what lengths she would go to while trying to win him back. But that game would leave them both losers. She would leave Charleston even more down spirited than she was already and he would wake up in his room at the Landing to just catch the echoes of the name he sometimes called in his sleep. Her name. Always her name. _

"_Truly, I'm not hungry," she protested, "As I said my room is just very warm and I was a little lightheaded. The difference in the temperature outside is what made me dizzy." _

_He grinned at her bravado. "What happened to you Scarlett, you used to be a fine liar. You're slipping," he said laughing to show he was only teasing her. _

"_I am not lying."_

_He released her gently from his embrace. He curved his arm around her slim waist and escorted her to the wrought iron benches that sat across from her window. She sank down gratefully and took a breath. _

"_That thing is laced a damn sight too tight if you ask me." _

_She laughed at his comment, knowing that he was referring to her corset. Little did he know, she had left off wearing corsets when she had left Atlanta for Tara the year before. Her small waist was the work of nature not artificial means. She smirked, unable to help herself. Did he think about her in her corset, did he think about those nights alone at the National, unlacing her before turning her around to draw her close and… _

_His voice broke into her recollections. "Where are you Scarlett?" _

"_I beg your pardon?" she asked flustered by his nearness._

"_You seemed very far away just now. Shall I fetch the harts-horn?" her asked with a wink and a smile._

"_Unless you are in the habit of keeping smells salts in your room Captain Butler I'm not sure where you are going to find any," she replied tartly._

"_Oh," he said softly, "Am I Captain Butler now Miss O'Hara?" _

"_It's Mrs. Butler," she reminded him firmly. _

"_So it is." _

_The silence she so dreaded had fallen between them again and she decided to take the bull by the horns. She had been wondering something for months and now seemed the ideal time to discuss it. "Rhett? After…after everything is done between us would you mind terribly if I continued to use the name Butler?" At his searching gaze she continued in a rush, "It's just that I'd feel strange reverting to Kennedy again and as for Hamilton, well I was Scarlett Hamilton in another life, one that feels as though it's been over for a thousand years." _

"_We don't have to discuss this just now, do we?" His face was tired suddenly in the waning light of the sun. Just because he wanted her gone from his life forever didn't make it any easier to discuss with her what would happen when that day came. _

_Taking pity on him she laughed weakly trying to make him laugh with her. "That's easy for you to say, Oh, there's always O'Hara, but I couldn't use it, much as I'd like to. Not only do I have two children with two different surnames but if I started using my maiden name and met someone who knew me from the country, why they might think I wound up an old maid." _

_He laughed then at the idea of Scarlett O'Hara going through life as an old maid. "No one would ever look at you and imagine that you went through your life without a husband." _

"_I just hope no one will look and me and realize I had several.," she quipped suddenly._

_In a rare gesture he took her small white hand in his own large slightly rough hand. "We'll talk about this some other time, I promise you." _

"_Thinking about it tomorrow are we?" she inquired with a small smile. _

"_Something like that.," he concurred._

"_Rhett?"_

"_Hmm?"_

"_Have you ever noticed how strangely this house causes things to echo?"_

_He could have loved her again in that moment for so easily changing the conversation and putting it on another course entirely. "It isn't very noticeable is it?"_

_She shrugged "Not exactly. Only if I wake up at night and then can't get back to sleep. But then again when I can't sleep it seems that I notice every little thing then, so perhaps I'm wrong."_

"_You aren't' wrong, it's because the walls aren't insulated. In Georgia most homes have some sort of insulation, even if it's only old newsprint and rags, but it's different here in Charleston because of the tropic climate. Most houses in Charleston in the last 30 years have been built after the same fashion. The way the houses now being built are framed there are small pockets of space between many of the interior walls. It helps the air circulate in the house during the warmer months and discourages mold. Of course the outer walls are thicker to keep out street noise and such, really it's a very innovative design. The one major draw back is as you say; sounds carry."_

_She nodded, his voice washing over her comfortably. He sat next to her, in a rare moment of complete relaxation and she too allowed herself to just enjoy spending time together without hostility and cruel words rearing their heads. _

_Her eyes slid closed and she blinked to keep them cleared of sleep. She had thought that she was wining her battle against exhaustion, at least until she awoke in the early hours of the morning she discovered that she was in her bed. Alone. He had obviously carried her inside and deposited her on her bed. Without so much as unbuttoning her boots she noticed with a small frown._

If she had known what was on his mind that night Scarlett would have taken heart knowing that her cause hadn't be lost, that Rhett had already started to recognize the continued power of his feelings towards her. But that night she only could see things from her perspective. That she was the participant in a battle that she was slowly losing after being out maneuvered at every twist and turn.

Scarlett closed the ledger and slid it under her pillow. She had thought she had heard the front door close, but she hadn't been sure. Now though the house the sound of a person ascending the main staircase echoed softly reaching her even though she was on the second floor of the house. She didn't hear the lighter quick footsteps of Ella and Wade so she assumed that Rhett had come up first to make sure she was awake and able to greet the children.

She grabbed the book of poems Rosemary had left from her bedside table. Tossing her hair in a more becoming semblance of disorder around her shoulders Scarlett smiled slyly. She would pretend that Rhett had caught her unaware and then… Well not very much would or could happen with the children being newly arrived in the house, but still it gave her a great deal of pleasure to allow him to surprise her.

She kept her eyes fastened on the opened book in her lap, not so much as glancing up through her thick eyelashes, though she could feel him standing in the doorway of her room observing her. She waited a minute, then two but he hadn't even made a sound to alert her to his presence, nor had he ventured so much as a step into her room. If he didn't say something soon she would simply lift her eyes to meet his even if that ruined his element of surprise.

"Good morning Scarlett."

She didn't have to put on a performance; Scarlett was shocked to the point of being nearly speechless at the sight of the person who had been observing her for silently for the last several moments.


	38. Ne cede mali Yield not to evil

Her muscles tensed painfully as she raised her bright green eyes to meet Ross's searching black eyes. He was framed in the doorway, his right shoulder leaning nonchalantly against the frame. Even with her mind in turmoil at the air of malevolence he projected, she was able to force herself to remain calm. The carefully cultivated expression of placid docility that she had learned to settle over her features as a young belle stood her in good stead now, she thought, even as she raised her chin slightly to address her brother in law. 

"Good morning Ross," she said pleasantly, "If you're looking for Rhett, I'm afraid you've missed him, but I am expecting him back any minute."

"I wasn't looking for Rhett."

The expression had always sounded overtly dramatic to her, but now, for the first time, Scarlett understood the expression 'my blood ran cold.' Her blood felt frozen within her veins, raising gooseflesh on her entire body. She could just feel the hairs at the nap of her neck prickle with fear. The air in her lungs felt trapped, completely unable to escape.

It was the same way she'd felt when the Yankee deserter had stood before her at Tara, except this time she was without Charlie's pistol or his brave sister. Rhett was already gone, Rosemary had gone to run errands and had told her that she expected to return after the children arrived at the house, and if Miss Eleanor were anywhere about, then Ross would never have been able to come upstairs unescorted. She was for all practical intents and purposes, alone.

"Oh?" There, she thought, she didn't sound anxious at finding herself alone with Ross; just curious at whom he could be looking for. Although, no matter what lie he told, it was fairly obvious that the only person he could have expected to find in her room was herself… Alone. The word 'alone' was reverberating through her thoughts as she waited for his response.

Ross's eyes were clear and he was immaculately groomed, she was nearly positive that he wasn't drunk, and at the very least that was something to hold on to. If he had something planned, there might be a chance for her to escape this confrontation unscathed if he allowed himself to consider what Rhett would do to him if he caused her any harm.

"I was looking for Emily. She is due back today, is she not?" he asked, his voice was controlled and pleasant, without a hint of malice.

Scarlett smiled sweetly; she didn't believe him for a minute. "Yes, she should be here soon." Perhaps if she continued to emphasis the expected arrival of her husband and his wife, Ross would leave her be.

"But she isn't here now, is she?" he asked piercingly.

Her smile deflated slightly but she continued to pretend to be undisturbed by his presence in her room without the presence of a chaperon. "No. She isn't here just yet. May I just say how grateful I am to you for allowing Emily to collect my children? It was terribly kind of you."

He laughed sharply and then with a guarded smile, stepped into her bedroom. "Think nothing of it. My older brother ordered me to jump and so I did. I only hope it was high enough. I live to serve his every whim you know," he added sarcastically. "Do you mind if I smoke?"

Scarlett shook her head, worried that if she spoke, her voice would quake.

"I'm remiss in my duties as the obedient brother in law, you're looking well." He removed a cigar from a case in his pocket and moving to the small ornate fireplace on the furthest wall of Scarlett's room, he withdrew a fireplace match from the tinderbox on the mantle.

She continued to follow him with her eyes as he stuck the match and lit his cigar. The smell of smoke reached her nostrils and she could barley suppress a cough. Though she knew very little about tobacco, she could only assume from the acrid smell of Ross's cigar it was of quality that was far inferior to anything Rhett smoked.

Realizing he had been waiting for a response, she ducked her head modestly, keeping her eyes on him through her thick lashes. "That's kind of you to say, I feel I look a fright. I do feel much better so I suppose there is something to be said for bed rest."

A searching, speculative look came into his coal black eyes. If she hadn't spent years trying to decipher Rhett's guarded expressions, she might have missed it. But she saw the look in his eyes for what it was, Ross wanted something and wanted it badly enough to risk what Rhett would do if he found him in her room.

He rested his cigar in the ashtray Rhett had left in the room earlier in the week, "You must be eager to return home next month."

"Home?" What could he mean by that? But then, clear as glass, she could almost see his face the last time they had been alone in her room, before Rhett had come to her rescue. The second half of their conversation had been about when she was leaving, how soon she would leave Charleston for Atlanta.

Two halves became whole in her mind. He was afraid that she would, at any moment discover his larceny. Ross was embezzling from the mines. She had tried, for Rhett's sake, to give Ross the benefit of the doubt. There were no doubts in her mind now, not after beginning the second ledger. He had been stealing on a grand scale and he had thought that he would get away with it.

He must have assumed that if through some off chance Rhett discovered his pilfering he would dismiss it as his brother being unsuited to the daunting task of multi-ledger book keeping. But with Scarlett, so use to balancing books, she would know just what was indicative of deliberate theft. He knew that she knew or was on the very verge of uncloaking his theft and now they were in the house alone save for perhaps Penny. An alarming thought came to her; even Penny was out of earshot, somewhere with Toby.

His eyes searched hers looking for clues as to her mood. Gathering no information from her neutral expression, he pressed onward. "Yes, I was under the impression that you were here among us under rather temporary circumstances. You must be eager to get back to your businesses in Georgia."

"Oh, you meant Atlanta." She shrugged lightly trying desperately to ape Rhett's frequently employed air of causal politeness. "When I think of home, I think of Tara." A queer light began to glow in his eyes and she wished suddenly that she had simply told him she was leaving in April.

"Tara, that's the name of the plantation where you grew up, is it not?"

"Yes. It's where the children have been staying, with my sister and her family." 'Make small talk', she thought calmly. 'Just keep him talking till someone comes home. Rhett', she thought as though she could somehow call out to him, 'Rhett, I need you. Please for the love of God, come home.'

"Did you know that I once owned the Landing? Father left it to me." His voice became bitter, "After the war when I came home from Bennett Place," he frowned, before clarifying for her just what an honor that was. "I was with Johnson when he surrendered. I was directly under General Johnson's command; Father had fought with him in the Mexican War." His gaze was on the wall just above her as though he were back in the last days of the war; tired, half starved, and knowing somewhere inside that his country's cause was lost.

Then his gaze came back to her and his face became hard with an anger that wasn't directed at her but could swiftly become focused on her if she spoke out of turn.

"I came back to find I had no home. There was only a burned out husk of a house and some overgrown rice fields that were lousy with rats and snakes. The levees had been destroyed so nothing would drain, the slaves were gone, and the money that took my family several lifetimes to acquire was gone. Everything was gone. It broke my mother's heart and the ruin of the Landing broke my father completely. That was what killed him, becoming a nonentity. Then, who should come to the rescue days after my father died? My wayward brother, the prodigal son. He bought the Landing, but do you think he bought it from me? No, he waited till it was sold at the Sheriff's sale. He bought it for a pittance, for little more than the back taxes. My father is spinning in his grave," his face twisted in anger and disgust, "which Rhett now owns. Ba, Ba black sheep." He glared at her. "What? Care to say something in defense of my brother's noble intentions?"

Her voice was soft as she tried not to antagonize him further. "Rhett loved the Landing, that's why he bought it Ross. He only wanted to save it; he didn't want it to hurt you. You're his brother and he cares for you very much."

He laughed sardonically before dropping his cigar to the floor, grounding it out with the tip of his shoe. She could smell the odor of scorched wood. "He loves it," he spat. "He's done everything he could to turn his back on everything being a Butler means. Now he wants it all back? What right does he have to want anything after the shame he brought on this family? Now, the heroic Captain Butler, daredevil of the blockades can afford to buy his way back to respectability."

She didn't speak, only watched him with a strange unworldly calm, waiting for whatever might come next. Her unwavering calm enraged him, driving him to search his memory for anything that Rhett had ever said or done that might hurt her pride and humble her. He smiled brightly, looking like a young boy who had received a particularly welcome present.

"If only you could have seen when he brought your daughter to visit mother. He convinced the entire town that he was no longer the man who bucked convention, but a devoted husband and father. He bragged to anyone who would listen about his daughter's Robillard mother. Strange isn't it, in all the time he was boasting about his Robillard wife he never mentioned that you were also the daughter of an Irishman who had come to this country like a thief in the night?"

Two hectic blotches of color flamed on her cheeks but her voice did not betray her intense anger. "You're mistaken."

"About which part, your paddy pater or the part about my brother conveniently turning a blind eye to your immigrant Irish father while only mentioning his daughter's peerless Robillard heritage. The former is entirely true, I assure you. The latter is, of course, only a guess on my part. You know the Butlers came from Ireland, over a hundred years ago. No doubt some of your family was in contact with my Butler forebears." He smiled though the smile never reached his eyes. "In some capacity or another."

Her eyes narrowed but still she didn't rise to his bait, her anger at his disparaging comments about pa had to be swallowed. "I thought the name Dunmore sounded Irish, how very interesting."

"Enthralling," he agreed, the one word dark with venom. "Would you like to know what I find terribly interesting? How very proud my cynical older brother was when his pretty young wife gave him a child after, what was it, a year of wedded bliss? Did you know that by the time your Bonnie was born I had already been married to my own barren wife for twelve years? Twelve long years and she'd never managed so much as a stillborn. And now? I don't expect to ever have a child from her, and what use is a barren wife except to collect my brother's stepchildren."

Scarlett's stomach clenched at the deliberate cruelty of his words. He was obviously aiming to shock and disconcert her, but why? To throw her off balance so he could discover how much she knew about his embezzling? Possibly or could he have a more sister motive in coming to taunt her today? Miss Eleanor had told her months ago that Ross despised Rhett but since he couldn't injure Rhett, he had mauled her to try and strike a blow at Rhett through someone he loved.

At the time, Rhett might have dismissed Ross's actions as the last resort of a drunk, but she suspected with the renewal of Rhett's feelings toward her came the urge to keep her safe from harm. If Ross touched her now, Rhett would do something about it. But she could only pray that it wouldn't come to that, she…

His voice cut through her thoughts. "Aren't you going to tell me it's the Lord's will or some other equally trite sentiment? Aren't you going to try to smooth my ruffled feathers? I lived the life my father expected me to, married the woman I was told to, I did everything I was supposed to and still Rhett comes out on top. He buys back the Landing and is restoring it to its former glory. He gives my mother her first grandchild." His eyes racked up and down her body as though they could pierce the concealing sheets and quilts. "Of course, if Emily looked like you, perhaps I would have tried that much harder to sire an heir."

His lips drew back in a grin exposing his straight white teeth, so like Rhett's and yet he was nothing at all like the man she loved. "Tell me something Scarlett, how much does a woman like you go for now a days?"

That was the arrow he had been searching for. It hit her directly, lighting the fires of shame in her soul at the proposition she had once laid before Rhett years before. "Leave. Now." Her voice never rose, it's pitch low but firm. The southern belle simpers and Madonna calm was replaced by the will of iron that builders, foremen, and competitors in Atlanta had come to respect over the years.

This was Scarlett O'Hara at her finest, the Scarlett O'Hara whose courage when cornered even Rhett admired. She wouldn't be cowered, not by a lowly drunkard like Ross Butler.

Her eyes burned and her lips were drawn into a flat line. She wasn't beautiful now, she was formidable and though he'd never admit it, she intimidated him for all that she could barely stand without support.

He found himself hastily backpedaling to placate her. "Now, now. I didn't mean to imply that you've taken cash from my brother for your services."

"I want you to leave. Before you say or do something that you will surely regret."

He came closer, now standing by the foot of her bed. She fought the urge to draw closer to her headboard in an attempt to put some distance between them. He would surely pick up on any signs of weakness and see then as an opportunity to pounce on her like a cat on a crippled bird. She refused to be torn to pieces after all that she had faced.

"Perhaps we've gotten off to a bad start, which is all my doing. For that, I'd like to apologize."

"Perhaps?" Her eyebrows rose at his nonchalant assertion. The twinge of fear she had felt only seconds before was gone, replaced by revulsion and unadulterated hatred. She couldn't forget how ashamed his actions had made her feel when she had only just arrived in Charleston. His face and coloring, so like Rhett's, only added to her repugnance for him.

From Rhett she could bear scorn and hostility, after her past treatment of him she could forgive him nearly anything. But Ross, she owed this man nothing. Her tight rein on her temper slipped and she gave vent to all the feelings she had been suppressing all season without a thought toward Ross's reaction. "You called me a whore in front of your wife and mother. Then you assaulted me."

He laughed smugly, pleased with himself for finally angering her. "I didn't call you a whore, I called you," he pretended to think, "Ah yes, a fancy piece. I meant it as a complement. I also seem to remember adding that I was sure you knew how to please a man, but I've come to see that I was wrong about that. If you knew how to please my brother there would be several whorehouses downtown would be out of business."

Determined to show him that their conversation was at an end, she picked her book back up. Keeping her voice cool, when she spoke, she hoped sounded unaffected by his accusations against Rhett. Though she did not recognize it for what it was, her mother's voice came past her lips. It was a voice that was clear and calm, a voice, for all of its gentle deference to the other party was giving an order not to be ignored. "That's a lie, even if it were the truth that is Rhett's business, and mine, certainly not yours. You'll be able to show yourself out? Good morning."

He moved with such speed that she didn't even have time to tense or move away. He ripped the book from her hands and flung it behind him. It sailed across the length of the room before slamming into the far wall, knocking a painting of some long dead Butler forbearer off the wall. Grabbing her chin with his thumb and pointer finger, he violently yanked it up-wards so that he could look her in the eyes.

Ross, completely disregarding the outcome of his irrational actions, was voracious to find fear in the green eyes that had haunted his dreams. He wanted his brother's spoiled overindulged wife to beg, to be humbled by him just as he was on a daily basis by his arrogant successful brother. "Don't ever think about dismissing me. My brother may enjoy your superior airs, but as for myself, there's only one thing about you that I enjoy…"

A flat Charleston drawl rang out, causing Ross to release Scarlett's chin. "I hate to interrupt your call, but Mrs. Butler does need her rest, perhaps you could call another time?" said Jason Cross pleasantly. He came into the bedroom without waiting for an invitation. He placed his bag on the foot of her bed causing Ross to retreat several steps. Doctor Cross acted as though nothing had been amiss when he arrived, deliberately ignoring that Ross was in his sister in law's room without a chaperon and that he had been holding her chin in a tight grasp.


	39. aperto are lay bare

**Ok, next chapter the children arrive and then in thechapter after that our favorite couple reunite :D**

Quickly, trying to hide his dismay at being discovered menacing his bed-ridden sister in law, Ross challenged Doctor Cross's own unexpected presence immediately. "Doctor Cross, may I ask what you are doing upstairs unannounced? I don't think my brother wouldn't appreciate you taking such liberties with his wife's reputation."

His voice icy with dislike, Doctor Cross answered immediately. "That's funny you should say that. I know Captain Butler wouldn't approve of your presence in his wife's room. Especially not after the earful I just had the pleasure of overhearing."

Unperturbed by Ross's hostile attitude Doctor Cross withdrew his eyeglass case from his pocket and unfolded his gold-rimmed spectacles. He withdrew a handkerchief from one of the interior pockets of his charcoal gray jacket and for a moment he buffed the spectacle lens till he was satisfied they were free of any sort of dust or lint. After he replaced the handkerchief he put on the glasses then with a barely discernible nod of satisfaction he bent slightly from the waist and snapped open his black leather satchel.

He never hurried and his cool aura of methodical calm was having a sobering effect on Ross. It was apparent to Scarlett that Ross had been of the verge of losing control and it was only the presence of Doctor Cross that had drawn him back to sanity. If it hadn't been for the nearly divine intervention of Doctor Cross there was no guessing what Ross might have done to her.

She had never really taken to Doctor Cross, but now she was so filled with gratitude that it blinded her to any of the qualities she had previously found so off putting. She admired his cool grace in what was an awful situation to be placed in the middle of. He was completely unaffected by the daggers Ross was shooting at him.

Finally finding his tongue Ross spat out the first insult that came to mind "I've never thought very much of eavesdroppers."

"And I've never through very much of men who threaten woman. I believe Mrs. Butler asked you to take your leave, I'm telling you to leave."

Ross knew he was beaten. Doctor Cross was not a man naturally inclined toward violence, but there was nothing about him that said he would be disinclined if the situation required it.

"I'm leaving, I'm leaving. No need to be so Cross," Ross laughed at his own attempt at wit, " Then again I suppose you can't help it." He turned his attention to Scarlett who met his glare with a look of complete contempt. "Scarlett, I look forward to resuming our conversation another time."

Emboldened by Doctor Cross's presence she lifted her chin and with a small sniff of disdain she told him exactly what she thought of that proposal, "Then you're going to be deeply disappointed."

"That remains to be seen, good morning." He bowed to her with a flourish before departing without another word.

'Good morning Mr. Butler", called Doctor Cross to Ross's retreating back.

Scarlett's shoulders slumped forward as she finally let herself relax. She smiled at Doctor Cross and her voice trembled only slightly as she spoke "Doctor Cross, I do declare, I don't believe I've ever been happier to see someone in my entire life."

"Your attempt at bravado has been duly noted, tell me did he hurt you?" He reached for her wrist and she cringed slightly.

He withdrew his extended hand at the first appearance of her discomfort at being touched. "Scarlett, I was only going to take your pulse." Seeing that she was still shaken by Ross's actions he gestured to the chair next to her bed and she inclined her head nodding. Jason Cross sat down and begun to speak in his soothing flat drawl. "I suppose it can wait. What did he want?"

She took a deep breath to steady herself before she attempted to speak again. "I've no idea. He originally told me he was looking for Emily, but I just know that he was telling a lie." She fluttered her eyelashes at him in an attempt to lighten the heavy atmosphere in the room. There was something she wanted to know, an iota of suspicion was nagging at the very corner of her mind and she wanted to know how he had arrived in the nick of time to intervene. "Tell me something Doctor Cross, are you often in the habit of rescuing damsels in distress? How did you know I was in distress anyway?"

"When I implied that I had been listening at keyholes I must confess I was bluffing, I wanted to throw Ross off balance. I didn't hear the majority of what he said. What I did hear from the front hall downstairs was some sort of loud bang and I believe I may have heard you cry out."

He glanced in the direction that Ross had thrown her book. The painting it had knocked from the wall was face down on the floor. "Ah, that's better than the scenario I had worked out in my mind. I was afraid that you were, against my instructions to the contrary, trying to practice standing. I thought that you'd fallen so I cast aside propriety and hurried upstairs. When I reached your door I saw that you weren't alone. For a moment I mistook your brother in law for," He laughed briefly, "I'm going to refer to your husband as Captain Butler from now on. It's the only way I can keep the Butler's straight. Where was I? Yes I thought. Because of the height and similar coloring that Ross was Captain Butler so I turned to leave but that's when I heard him mention something about his brother's preferences. I realized then that it was Ross and not your husband that was with you."

"Why were you downstairs, is someone else home?" She could only pray that Miss Eleanor hadn't been witness to any of the unpleasantness that had just occurred.

"Your maid was in the front yard weeding. She told me no one was at home and I asked her if I might leave a note for Captain Butler."

Scarlett's face paled slightly, leaving her face with none of the bloom of health she'd possessed when Rhett had left for the station only an hour before. "About Rosemary?"

"No, I'd stopped by to speak with Captain Butler about you actually. I wanted to mention to him, as per our earlier conversation, that I completely approve of you having some limited access to fresh air for the remainder of your convalescence."

Color flooded back into her cheeks, he wasn't going to tell Rhett that he wanted to court Rosemary. Which meant that Rhett wouldn't find out that she had a hand in it. If her luck held perhaps he wouldn't find out about her involvement till after their trip to the Landing. "That was kind of you to take the time. I can see why Rosemary is so taken with you, you're very sweet under your gruff physician's exterior," she teased lightly.

He laughed, his face becoming that of a different man. "Sweet? Now there's a word that I suspect hasn't been applied to me since I was in dresses or perhaps short pants." His smile faded and his expression became serious once more. "Scarlett, what do you think Ross wanted, I know you said he told you his was looking for Emily but perhaps he gave some sort of indication as to his true motives?"

"Honestly, I wish I knew." Though she was coming to like Doctor Cross she wasn't willing to trust him with the details of Ross's treachery. It wasn't any of his business. If Rhett wanted the details of his brother's pilfering to become common knowledge that was for him to disclose, not her. Especially not to a man Rhett couldn't stand.

His blue eyes met hers and for an instant she felt a vague feeling of disconcertion. It was fleeting and she wasn't very good at reading people so she dismissed it as residual feelings from the agitation Ross had caused earlier. "Do you think he was looking for you specifically?"

Carefully she considered her words before replying. "I suspect so. He wanted to speak to me alone earlier this week. Then there was some unpleasantness when I first arrived …" The corners of her mouth tightened pulling her lips in a tight line till they became pale under the strain. The way his hands had grabbed her upper arms and his breath, rancid with liquor as he forced her mouth open…She closed her eyes and squeezed them tight trying to fight the tears that she had refused to shed in Ross's presence.

"Scarlett? Scarlett, open your eyes, please. Look at me."

She opened her eyes and the sheer intensity of pain in them moved him to kindness. It wasn't kindness that was contrived to make Rhett Butler uncomfortable or to project an image of a compassionate physician. She was so beautiful that he couldn't help but treat her with kindness. Doctor Cross offered her his handkerchief with a smile. She shook her head, finding herself without words. She was terribly embarrassed at being so emotional in front of a man who was very nearly a stranger.

He offered the handkerchief again with a shrug. "Take it, please. I've an aunt, actually a great-aunt in St-Germain-en-Laye. She's a mother superior in a convent there. They are known for their needlepoint and so I've receive a dozen handkerchiefs on my birthday and again at Christmas since I turned nine. That makes somewhere around 480 handkerchiefs, so really you'd be doing me a favor taking one of my hands."

He sounded so earnest that she allowed a small smile to break. She took the proffered handkerchief and wiped her eyes delicately. "Thank you."

"You're quite welcome, now answer me this, you started to speak about when you first arrived and then you begun to cry, will you tell me the rest now?"

"He did something that was so awful that even now, months later, it still makes me feel so dirty and disgraced that I can barely bring myself to tell you…" She trailed off again, wiping her eyes with his handkerchief.

Doctor Cross took her hand in his and squeezed it gently. "Scarlett, he didn't…"

Knowing exactly what Doctor Cross thought had happened made her cry out in horror "No. God's Nightgown, no. He kissed me," she paused searching for the words that would convey her distress, "In a way that was completely inappropriate."

"Perhaps you misunderstood? Was it meant as a greeting?" Though his tone was neutral she could tell that he was implying that she had misunderstood a simple gesture of greeting.

She snapped at him "He thrust his tongue in my mouth!"

Jason Cross released her hand and removed his glasses and then massaged his temple. "I see where that would a be difficult action to misinterpret. What did Captain Butler say when you told him? Your brother in law was trespassing today, wasn't he? I can't imagine that Ross is even welcome in this house after perpetrating such a despicable act."

"He didn't say anything because I didn't tell him and neither did Emily or Miss Eleanor. I can't imagine that Ross told him."

"You will have to tell him about what just happened."

"Oh no I don't. He would be furious."

"And rightly so. Has he threatened you before this morning? You said he was alone with you earlier this week, did he say anything that might be construed as a threat?"

Her face became closed as she spoke plainly, "Doctor Cross, it isn't that I'm not grateful, truly I am. I don't know what would have happened to me if you hadn't arrived when you did, but I can't tell Rhett."

"Won't you mean." He corrected sharply.

She shrugged dismissing his pointed comment. "Can't or won't; I refuse to quibble with you about my vocabulary choices. The point is Rhett will be furious and he might do something rash. Ross is a drunk who…"

"He wasn't drunk this morning."

"It doesn't matter. I just want to forget this ever happened. Please, I don't mean to be rude, but you have to go. Now. Rhett and Emily will be here any moment with my children and if they find you here alone with me it will only lead to trouble."

"It seems to me that you are already in a great deal of trouble," said Doctor Cross wryly.

"And in that opinion you are entirely correct. If Rhett finds out that I know about you and Rosemary I'll be in even more trouble. Right this very moment I can't afford to upset Rhett. Our marriage isn't," she stopped suddenly, coloring lightly.

"Scarlett, secrets seldom stay that way. I plan to approach Captain Butler in the very near future to request his permission to call on Rosemary so there's a secret that will soon be off your conscience. But as for Ross, I wouldn't be a bit surprised if he tells Captain Butler all about what happened this morning."

"He wouldn't dare!"

"He will, because if he tells his brother first he can put his own coat of varnish on the face of the truth."

"You may have a point," she conceded reluctantly.

"There's no may about it. Tell your husband the truth."

"I'll think about it. It's funny, besides him kissing me, there's always been something about Ross that made me want to avoid him at all costs."

"I believe it's his personality, or rather his lack thereof. You're still looking very pale, are you resting enough?"

She glanced at Rhett's tulips and the light flush that had stained her cheeks earlier deepened to a rosy blush and her eyes gleamed with excitement as she thought of all that had transpired between herself and Rhett the night before. "I'm in bed nearly all the time, how could I not be resting enough," she remarked with a sly smile.

He followed her gaze to the tulips on the demi-lune table. "Was my selection not to your liking?"

Damn he noticed his own bouquet was nowhere in sight. "Oh no, they were beautiful and they smelled heavenly but with this room being so closed the smell was becoming cloying. I gave them to Miss Eleanor for the dinning room."

"I'm glad you enjoyed them, even if it was only for a short time. I'll take my leave now Scarlett. Consider what I said, honesty is the best policy."

"Not in every case," countered Scarlett.

"Not in every case," agreed Doctor Cross, "In this specific case thought I think you'll find the truth will lift a great deal of weight off your shoulders."

Just as he begun to stand Scarlett, in an impromptu gesture, took his hand in hers stopping him from leaving "Thank you Doctor Cross, for everything."

He was flustered for an instant but found the sense to reply politely, "You are entirely welcome."

She released his hand and he stood and closed his leather satchel. After several more trivial comments about resting and what not he left a short time later, leaving Scarlett alone except for her thoughts and worries.


	40. adventus us The arrival

**What State/country is everyone from, not stalking,just curious. I am from New York in the USA**

Checking his watch Rhett was pleased to discover that he was nearly five minutes early. After asking a porter for the track number Rhett made his way to platform three to await the train from Atlanta.

Minutes later, in a cloud of soot and smoke the train arrived. Scanning the crowd he soon spotted Emily descending from the steps of one of the four first class coaches. Taking advantage of her elevated position she quickly looked out over the heads of the crowd, she soon located Rhett who tipped his hat to her to acknowledge he had seen her bright smile. The children were behind her on the step and he only had a moment to judge how much they had changed before they stepped from the train onto the platform.

Holding Ella's hand andguiding Wade in the right direction, Emily and the children soon made their way through the teeming station to meet Rhett.

"Mother is sick again isn't she," asked Wade impatiently, without stopping to greet Rhett.

Rhett's appraising eyesnoted the changes that the last year had wrought on the young man before him.Wade was so tall now; obviously he took after either the Hamilton's or perhaps the Robiliard strain. The timid and often nervous eleven year old that he'd last seen at Tara nearly a year before had been replaced by a gangly, somber young man. His features when he finished growing would suit him well. He had Scarlett's square jaw and slightly pointed chin coupled with the aristocratic Hamilton bone structure. The young ladies would swoon over Wade long before he was eighteen, Rhett thought fondly.

Rhett could also see that Wade wasn't overly happy to see him, that was clear in the way he held himself aloof as though he was afraid Rhett might try to hug him or otherwise presume upon their former close relationship.

"Your mother has a touch of influenza. We were sailing and our boat capsized." Rhett glanced over Wade's head at Emily who shook her head discreetly; she hadn't told the children their mother was ill. "How did you know she was ill?"

Wade looked at Rhett, his brown eyes serious with worry. "Because no matter what happens, if mother says she is coming for us she always does. She is never late, she says that only disorganized people are late." Rhett fought back a smile at Wade's earnest repetition of Scarlett's mantra in life. "If she knew she was going to be delayed she would have sent a telegram the instant she knew she was going to be late."

Wade believed wholeheartedly in his mother when it came to her dedication to her responsibilities. He had never known her to shirk them in all of his life. Anything that was required of her she did. Whether it concerned her family or her business holdings his mother could always be relied upon to do whatever was necessary.

Secretly, at least when it came to business, he wanted to be just like her when he grew up. The few times he'd accompanied his mother to the mills and her store he was impressed at how efficiently everything was run. The ledgers were always kept up to date without corrections or smudges. Her perfect penmanship was something else he envied. Being naturally left handed it was difficult for him to write with his right hand as he was required to and if he did write with his left hand the ink became smudged and messy.

Deciding it would be better to just be honest with his stepchildren Rhett concurred with some of Wade's statement. "You're right, your mother was ill but she is getting stronger every day."

Wade smiled a little. "Truly?"

Rhett's answering smile wiped much of the fear from Wade's expression. "Yes, truly. I expect she'll be out of bed by the end of the week. Then if you're both agreeable I'm going to take us over to Dunmore Landing."

"That's where you grew up isn't it Uncle Rhett?" asked Wade remembering the stories Rhett had told him about his own boyhood.

"That's right Wade. I expect that after being at Tara for so long you've learned quite a bit about how a plantation should be run, perhaps you'll help me supervise the rebuildingand planting atthe Landing. I'm afraid I'm still learning day by day."

Wade ducked his head modestly but Rhett could see the boy was beaming with pride. It was only then that he noticed the lack of chatter from Ella. He had never, not even when she was a toddler, witnessed Ella not chirping brightly about any topic that came to her mind.

Ella clung to Emily's hand. He smiled at her but she only huddled closer to Emily. Even looking so woebegone she was such a pretty little girl, it still amazed him that Scarlett hadn't seen the potential for beauty that Ella had possessed by the time she was a year old. Gently Rhett rested his hand on her tumbling ginger curls, tweaking one of her curls slightly. "No hello for me sweetheart?"

Ella's lip trembled as she struggled to speak audibly, "Are you sure mother isn't going to die?" she asked sniffing back ready tears.

Her small voice asking such an ominous question raised gooseflesh on Rhett's arms. Great-grandmother Rose's expression, 'A goose just walked over my grave,' came to him for the second time that week. Her soft, anxious voice wrenched his heart painfully.

The mere thought of Scarlett dying, leaving him when they had finally found their way into one another's hearts ripped at his soul with claws of dread. His voice was calm but left no room for argument to the contrary, "Of course your mother isn't going to die, who would say a thing like that to you Ella?"

Ella started to sob as she answered his gentle inquiries. "Aunt Suellen said she might and when I told her that she was wrong she said if mother died I'd have to go to an orphanage because Uncle Ashley would have to take Wade because he's a Hamilton but all the Kennedy's are dead and she wouldn't take me because I'm a bad girl."

Rhett knelt down, heedless of the impact of dirty station floor on his trouser knees, and took Ella in his arms. She put her arms around his neck and he cradled her against his chest protectively. "Ella, your mother is going to be just fine," he paused for a moment before deciding it would be in their best interest to continue, "if, God forbid, anything did ever happen to your mother you'd stay with me," he looked over at Wade who was pretending only casual interest in Rhett's discourse but his eyes told a different story, "you too Wade. When I married your mother that meant I was not only becoming her husband but also your father. I'll always take care of you both."

Ella shook her head, her ginger curls flying about her head. "No, that's what I told Aunt Suellen but she said you wouldn't want me or Wade because you don't even want mother anymore."

Wade tugged at Rhett's sleeve to regain his attention. "Aunt Suellen said that you were going to divorce mother, she was just confused wasn't she Uncle Rhett?" Wade asked, trying his best not to lose control of his emotions. He hadn't been completely sure what a divorce meant but Aunt Suellen had been more than ready to enlighten him on just what being divorced would mean to his mother. If his stepfather was going to do something so horrible Wade was determined to be strong, he would be a man because his mother and sister needed him. The weight of the world threatened to bow him under but he could stand it, he was, after all his mother's son.

Rhett looked down at his stepson. Wade looked back at Rhett with a combination of fear, hope and resignation. Wade did resemble his father in coloring and build but even though his eyes were brown instead of green they were as expressive as Scarlett's. There was a quiet strength about the boy that bespoke his Aunt Melanie but there was also a spine of steel developing in his character that could have only come from Scarlett.

"Wade, Ella, your Aunt Suellen and your mother have a complicated relationship. I suspect your Aunt Suellen doesn't mean half of what she says when it comes to things concerning your mother. Pay no heed to anything she said. I don't know why she thought I would divorce your mother, but that is just plain ridiculous. Your mother and I are married and we are going to stay that way. I'm only sorry that she upset you with his misconceived conclusions." So much for being honest with his stepchildren, thought Rhett. What could he say, Suellen hated her sister and would discredit and mock her at every given chance?

Ella pushed on Rhett's shoulder to get his attention. "She said my father was her beau but then mother stole him away. Why would mother steal Aunt Suellen's beau?"

Now that Uncle Rhett had reassured them that he wasn't divorcing mother Wade was finally able to let himself relax slightly in Rhett's presence. Shrugging dismissively, Wade answered her before Rhett had a chance. "Aunt Sue's just jealous because mother is much prettier than her. If I had to choose between mother and Aunt Suellen I'd choose mother,becauseshe's the prettiest woman I've ever seen. You think that toodon't you Uncle Rhett?"

"Your mother is very beautiful," replied Rhett smiling.

"Mother is the most beautiful lady I've ever seen," Ella glanced over toward Emily and smiled shyly," But you're very pretty Auntie Emily."

Rhett laughed and he bounced Ella lightly as they walked to the porter window to request Ella and Wade's luggage be sent on to his mother's house. "Auntie Emily is it?"

"We use to call Aunt Melly Auntie so we asked Aunt Emily if we call her Auntie Emily. We know she isn't our real Aunt but Aunt Melly wasn't related to Ella by blood but she still called Aunt Melly Auntie", explained Wade.

As he listened to Wade's discourse on the origins of Emily's new title Rhett smiled sympathetically at his sister in law "Long trip Emily?"

Emily reached down to brush a stray lock of hair from Wade's eyes. "Not in the least, we had a fine time. Wade told me all about Tara and Scarlett's father. He sounds as though he was quite a character."

"Scarlett's father was a fine man. Completely self made. I liked him very much." Rhett left directions for the porter as well as the pieces of luggage that were to be sent before the four of them made their way along King Street. Ella was dozing comfortably against Rhett's shoulder as Wade tried to get Rhett's attention.

"What is it son?"

"When did you meet my grandfather?" asked Wade excitedly, hoping to add something else to his precious storehouse of memories about the grandfather who he had adored.

"The first time was at Twelve Oaks at a barbeque. Ella's daddy brought me there."

"Were you friends with my father?" asked Ella, perking up slightly.

"No sweetheart, we did some business together before the war, I bought cotton from him. Of course I did see him time from time to time when I'd call on your mother while they were married."

"Did you love mama the first time you met her?" asked Ella dreamily.

"I wasn't introduced to your mother at Twelve Oaks, I didn't officially meet your mother till nearly a year later when she was living with Miss Pittypat and your Aunt Melly."

"I was already born, wasn't I Uncle Rhett?" asked Wade, slowly warming once more to his stepfather.

"You were indeed and you were quite a handsome tyke if I remember correctly," he teased.

"Why didn't you ask mother to marry you then?" asked Wade.

Emily laughed at Rhett's obvious discomfort at the path the children's line of questioning was taking.

"I suppose because she was still mourning your father Wade," lied Rhett smoothly.

Ella lifted her head from Rhett's shoulder and parroted Suellen. "Aunt Suellen said you married mother a bare year after my father died, wasn't she still sad that he had died?"

Emily rolled her hazel eyes at the mention of Suellen. Rhett shrugged dismissively before returning his attention to the children and their queries. "That was a little different, your mother had Wade and you were only a little baby.She had the mills and the store and she needed a father for both of you. When Wade's father passed away your Grandfather O'Hara was still alive and so Wade had him and his Uncle Henry but when Frank died your mother needed me."

"Aunt Melly said that you married mother soquickly because you were so in love with her that you couldn't wait any longer, she also said you had been sweet on mother for years." said Wade with a small grin. When Aunt India had been making pointed comments about how rapidly Scarlett had remarried, his Aunt Melly, unaware that he and Beau were hiding in their "cave" under Aunt Pitty's dinning room table had immeaditly jumped to mother's defense with that sentiment. She had remarked that Captain Butler had obviously been in love with Scarlett for years and how she hoped they would be happy together.

"Out of the mouths of babes, eh Rhett?" Emily commented trying to suppress a decidedly unladylike grin and failing miserably.

"Comes the truth," replied Rhett with a good natured chuckle.


	41. Mirabile visu Wonderful to behold

Miss Eleanor's front gate was directly in front of them. "We're here," said Emily brightly, "Isn't Miss Eleanor's house lovely? It's just a few blocks from my own and once you're settled I'll have you all over for tea."

Ella turned her head to survey the house. "It looks just like Bonnie said it did," exclaimed Ella happily.

Rhett surveyed the house thoughtfully. The cream colored house glowed in the morning sun and hearing Bonnie's name from Ella did not wound him as he had feared it might. He knew only peace. He felt guilty still for depriving Scarlett by costing her three months of Bonnie's life especially when she would leave them so soon after their return to Atlanta, but a part of him rejected that guilt and was deeply grateful that he had had so much time with her before he lost her. Hearing his princess's name on the lips of her siblings wouldn't tear at him. The relief garnered from that was exquisite.

"Did Bonnie tell you about my mother's house?" asked Rhett softly so as not to startle Ella with the intensity of his emotions.

"Oh yes, she said that it has a humongous back yard and a hammock to swing in and that you can see right down to a lot of water. She got a kitten when she came, can I have a kitten Uncle Rhett?" asked Ella wiggling to get down.

Rhett set Ella on her feet and she bounded excitedly through the front gate She was eager to explore the house and grounds that Bonnie had spoken about so often. She missed her sister who had been her best friend and the thought of being in a place that she had visited pleased Ella immensely. Wade sighed deeply and without being told followed behind Ella to make sure she didn't get into trouble.

"Poor Mother, first Toby and now Ella is going to beg her for a kitten," said Rhett chuckling.

"The no pets without asking Mother rule doesn't apply to grandchildren or to those who are convalescing it would appear," replied Emily, she laid her gloved hand on his forearm and squeezed it gently. "I saw your face when Ella mentioned Bonnie, it's going to be difficult at first, she misses her sister very much. She wanted to know if I had known Bonnie, if Bonnie had been to my house, and so on."

"They were very close in age, only a little more than two years apart." He smiled at his sister in law and taking her hand from his arm he lifted it to his lips and pressed a gentle, affectionate kiss on her knuckles. "Will you come and say hello to Scarlett?" asked Rhett.

"I'll come back later, you know…" she paused as Ella darted past them toward a towering live oak. Wade was right behind her and the watching adults smiled as Ella evaded her big brother at what seemed to be the very last second. She waited till the children were out of earshot before commenting, "Scarlett's sister is quite honestly the most hateful person I've ever met. When she wasn't making comments about what an awful sister Scarlett is she was trying to trick me into reviling the details about why you were going to divorce her. She really did tell Ella that Scarlett might have died and that's why she hadn't come. She doesn't seem to care about Wade one way or the other but she despises Ella."

The amusement that had softened his features at Ella's antics faded as the muscles in his jaw clenched. Rhett's voice was tight with anger at his sister in law. "That's because she doesn't dare confront Scarlett about her marriage to Frank Kennedy but Ella is a much easier target for Suellen's resentments. She's only a child and an impressionable one at that. I'm sure Suellen has said far more than she should have to Ella about topics that would have been better left unexplored." Rhett laughed sharply, his eyes hard under his furrowed brow I'd hate to be in her shoes the next time she's face to face with Scarlett. If I've learned one thing about Scarlett over the years it's this, she doesn't forget, ever."

Emily nodded, before raising her voice so the children could hear her "Children, I have to go home for a little while, I'll see you this afternoon for tea."

Ella ran to Emily and hugged her tight around the waist. Wade joined them and stood on tiptoe to press a quick kiss on Emily's cheek. "Thank you Auntie Emily."

Emily leaned down to caress Wade's cheek fondly. "Take good care of your mother. Will you tell her I'll be along later this afternoon?"

"I will."

Emily kissed Rhett on the cheek and after the two said their goodbyes she let herself out the black scroll work garden gate that led to the street.

Tired of playing tag with Wade Ella took Rhett's hand, jerking it impatiently. "May we go see mama now?"

"Auntie Emily told us that mother had to stay in bed till she's better, when will that be?" asked Wade, a note of worry creeping back into his voice.

Rhett led the children into the house, "Soon I hope. She just needs to rest and not overdo things. Her Doctor thinks she'll be able to be up in a few weeks." He didn't tell them what Doctor Cross had said about next week in case Scarlett had a setback. He didn't want to raise their hopes only to see them dashed if Scarlett needed more time to recover.

"Rhett?" called Miss Eleanor from the parlor, "Are the children with you?"

"They are. Come and say hello."

Miss Eleanor came into the hallway her smile welcoming and filled with pleasure at seeing them again. "Hello Wade, Hello Ella. My stars Wade you've grown a foot since I last saw you. Ella your hair has gotten so long, it looks very pretty."

"Hello Mrs. Butler, how do you do?" said Wade holding out his hand.

She shook it as solemnly as it was offered. She turned to Ella who was wide eyed, her gaze darting here and there as she tried to notice everything about the house at once. She hadn't noticed that Miss Eleanor was waiting to welcome her as she strained to look out the windows at the end off the hall that looked out onto the backyard.

Nudging Ella in the side, Wade whispered under his breath, "You're being rude."

Ella ignored her brother and smiled broadly at Miss Eleanor, her two front teeth were missing and Miss Eleanor smiled in return. "May I call you grandmama, that's what Bonnie said she called you?"

Tears came to Miss Eleanor's eyes. She had wanted to suggest to Scarlett that she might tell the children they could call her grandmother but then she had decided against it. She had seen how much the mention of Bonnie had depressed Scarlett the other night she had discarded the idea. Miss Eleanor knew Scarlett was incredibly strong but she was also eager to please her mother in law and she might agree to something she was less then comfortable with. Miss Eleanor was loath to cause Scarlett any more pain but the overwhelming urge to be a grandmother to her son's stepchild won out.

"Of course you may call my grandmama precious." Scarlett's children were two of the most attractive children Miss Eleanor had ever seen. No wonder Bonnie had been such a little beauty with Scarlett for a mother. If only her daughter in law could give her son another baby. A handsome little boy or another dainty little girl her heart would burst with joy. She could only hope that Scarlett had been in earnest when she had told her in November that she wanted another baby. Miss Eleanor was so lost in her dreams for another grandchild that she missed the Wade's dismayed expression.

Wade looked uncomfortable and Rhett could surmise why. He knew, from a conversation they had had years ago that Wade vaguely remembered Scarlett's mother and he had also mentioned her several time over the years in passing.

Unlike Ella, Wade had grown up with the knowledge that he had an extended string of Hamilton relatives in Atlanta and in several other states. The idea of calling someone who wasn't a blood relative grandmother must have been a much more foreign idea to Wade than Ella who had no real extended family outside of Scarlett's sisters, two Robiliards Aunts, and her Benteen cousins.

Rhett caught his mother's eye and then inclined his head briefly toward Wade. Miss Eleanor turned her eye on Wade and taking in his woebegone expression she immediately tried to apologize for being so audacious as to suggest he address her as grandmother but Rhett spoke first addressing his stepson offhandedly.

He didn't want the boy to know that he had noticed his reluctance to call Miss Eleanor grandmama. So he spoke causally as though the matter was one of no importance one way or the other. "Wade, I'm not sure if you'd be comfortable calling my mother grandmother, though you are welcome to do so, if you'd like. Your mother and family friends call my mother Miss Eleanor. Certainly you're old enough to choose which ever you'd like."

Wade nodded gratefully. In the short time he'd been back in Rhett's company the resolve against liking and trusting him was rapidly melting away in the presence of his stepfather's candor and open affection for both him and Ella. "Would that be alright, it's just that.." he trailed off and blushed.

Rhett rested his hand on his stepson's shoulder. "Wade, it's important to me that you and your sister feel at home here in Charleston. If anything upsets you or makes you uncomfortable I want you to come to me, you too little Miss Ella."

"Aren't we going back to Atlanta?" asked Ella. Her doll collection was there and she had no intentions of just leaving her babies behind.

"I'm sure we will, but for the time being Charleston is going to be our home. Now, shall we go upstairs and see your mother?" Wade and Ella mounted the stairs as Rhett followed behind them considering Ella's question about returning to Atlanta.

He had smiled for Ella's benefit but inwardly he mentally shrugged. If he never saw Atlanta again he wasn't sure that he would care. Even Bonnie's grave wasn't enough to draw him back to that raw claustrophobic town. He had come to accept that where ever he went Bonnie would be near him. He no longer needed the physical reminder of a tomb to center him. Sally had imparted a piece of wisdom to him one afternoon on the launch as they glided across the Cooper River. It was something one of her numerous pen friends had written to her when she had lost her mother and she had given him the gift of words that in their simplicity were both practical and soothing.

"_Sometimes, if you stand on the bottom rail and lean over to watch the river slipping slowly away beneath you, you will suddenly know everything there is to be known."_


	42. Comfort in the Mundane

**Scarlett could hear her children asking Rhett question after question in a seemingly never ceasing barrage as they made their way down the hall toward her room. Her stomach was churning and she couldn't keep down so much as a bite of food. Being alone most of the day before had given Scarlett a good deal of time to think about her children and their lives and her role in their lives.**

**Ross's earlier intrusion was on her mind but she pushed it away as she often did when something unpleasant threatened to rob the rare moments of joy from her life. Her children for once in their lives were going to be moved to the forefront. After years of pushing them off onto Melly or relying on Mammy to care for them it was finally left to her.**

**She had always seem to their basic needs; food, clothes, shelter, and education. But excepting the time when she'd tried to court their affections when Rhett had left her and taken Bonnie she could plainly see that she hadn't bothered herself very much about their hopes, dreams and fears. **

**Now she would try her best to be a good mother. She knew that she couldn't become a pale copy of Melanie. She would never be the doting mother all consumed by being a parent, but she could try to win their trust and be someone they could bring their troubles, big and small, to.**

**There was one consolation to be found, in the form of the long dead Ellen. Strange as it felt Scarlett was finally glad to have not grown up to be a lady of her mother's mold. For years she had thought, "What would mother say?" and felt shame at having often failed her saintly mother. Her own children, though they might never realize it, were in some ways lucky to have a less than perfect mother. They would never use her morals and expectations as a yardstick to measure their failings. They could live their lives content to try their best to be the kind of person they were inclined to be not the person they were expected to be. She would never be held up as an idol by them, they were both only too aware of her many failings.**

**"Scarlett? Are you awake?" asked Rhett from the door. **

**Scarlett pulled herself up into a sitting position. "Of course I am." She could see Wade and Ella behind their stepfather's large frame. Apprehension was clear on their faces. **

**"Darlings, don't you have kisses for me?" she asked wearing her most winning smile. **

**Ella pushed past Wade and Rhett to fling herself into her mother's welcoming arms. Scarlett pulled her daughter up onto the bed even though the strain of physical exertion robbed the color from her face. **

**Ella snuggled deep into her mother's bosom. At last she was far away from her Aunt's angry words and the pinches and slaps of her bad mannered cousins. Her mother was happy to see her and was holding her tightly. Her mother who always smelled wonderful, like roses and the purple flowers that grew on bushes at Tara. She couldn't remember the names of the flowers but she knew them whenever she smelt them. **

**She was safe with her mother again. Uncle Rhett, despite what Aunt Suellen had said, was there with her mother and he seemed to be happy. Her mother was smoothing her hair and cuddling her close. After months of her Aunt's snide remarks and her cousins abuse Ella was so happy to be wanted and petted by her usually distant mother that she burst into exhausted tears. **

**"Ella, sweetheart, baby, don't cry. Please. You're here now, we're all together now." **

**She met Rhett's eyes over Ella's head. He smiled sympathetically but made no move to come to her aid. **He wanted to step in and comfort Ella, but it was something Scarlett needed to do. She had to be the one to forge a relationship with her children.

**Her daughter continued to bawl and Scarlett, approaching parenting like business kept her voice even instead of giving into her initial urge to tell Ella to stop being silly and to hush. She instead spoke in a soft cajoling voice just as she would to an irate customer at the store. **

**"Ella, are you angry with me because I didn't come for you and Wade at Tara when I said I would?" **

**"I thought you were dead," wailed Ella. **

**"Dead? Honey, no." Scarlett laughed brightly seeking to turn her near death experience into a joking matter for the sake of her daughter; taking up Doctor Cross's handkerchief she wiped Ella's swollen eyes and squeezed her nose gently. Ella blew her nose noisily and Scarlett smothered a giggle. It was really just the sort of thing that she would have done as a child. Mammy always admonished her that she sounded like a hog rooting in a trough when she was Ella's age.**

**Scarlett kissed the crown of Ella's head and leaned her chin there for a moment with her eyes closed. It felt surprising comforting to hold her child in her arms. Ella wasn't Bonnie, but she was still here and it felt good to be needed by someone. **

**Rhett watched them, mother and child, and for the second time that day he took comfort in his family. He had always been a gambler who participated in high stakes games but he had taken the largest risk of his life in allowing Scarlett to stay in Charleston. **

**If he had really been determined to see the back of her he could have sent her home after Christmas or even New Year's but he allowed himself to be coerced into their "deal." That had bought them the time they needed to reach equal ground. But the payout had been worth the risk. He could have lost them all, Scarlett, Wade, and Ella. He might have lived out the rest of his life at the Landing, pouring himself into restoring it before dying a bitter lonely man without his wife, without his children.**

**He could feel her eyes on him and he lifted his eyes to meet her curious, jade hued eyes. There were unshed tears in them and he winked at her. **

**Scarlett had never before in her life known such happiness. Not when the mills had flourished, not from the elation of stolen moments with Ashley, never before had she felt so utterly content. Ella's eyes, even red rimmed and slightly puffy from her bout of tears did look just like Ellen's. Her once ginger hair had darkened to an attractive chestnut that looked very much like Careen's when she was a child. Ella had grown out of her ugly duckling phase and was a beautiful little girl. But it was more than her appearance that was causing Scarlett to reevaluate her feeling toward her youngest child. **

**It had taken years but finally Scarlett had begun to realize that Ella wasn't just Frank Kennedy's daughter, she was Scarlett's child as well and just spending the last few minutes paying close attention to Ella she saw several similarities between them. "I was sick from getting a real good dunking in the Ocean, but I'm already feeling much better now that you and Wade are here." **

**"Aunt Suellen said you would probably die and she told Uncle Will you'd go to…a bad word." **

**Scarlett glanced over Ella's head her eyes meeting Rhett's. Rhett gestured with the flats of his palms. Though his facial expression didn't betray his inner thoughts he was seething. Damn Suellen and her tirades and fishwife jealousies. So Scarlett had caught Frank Kennedy, that was years ago and in the meantime Suellen had born three children to her own husband. To take out her anger with Scarlett on Ella was inexcusable. **

**"I telegrammed Suellen that you'd had an accident and were ill. I only told her to tell the children you'd been delayed," replied Rhett to her silent query. **

**"Darling, I'm not going to die for years and years. Your Aunt Sue is a silly whey faced ninny." **

**Wade dissolved into a fit of giggles that he desperately tried to smother. His Aunt Sue did have the same complexion as a wheel of cheese. How clever of mother to notice such a thing. **

**"Wade Hamilton, how dare you laugh at one of your elders," Scarlett said severely, however the smile tugging at the corners of her full lips belied her words. **

**"I mean truly," she continued her voice threatening to dissolve into giggles, "What kind of young man did I raise that laughs to hear his Aunt called a mean spirited cow with a tongue like a rip saw." **

**Wade came to the bed and kissed his mother's cheek gently as though he was afraid if he were too rough she'd break. Tears prickled at the back of Scarlett's eyes. Her son, she had borne him, raised him without his father, and would send him to University with money earned through her own labor. Yes, she loved Wade. The feelings that she had always dismissed as responsibility and duty were in fact pride and love. **

**She loved Wade. She loved Ella. Finally she had time to allow herself to get to know her children. The mills were in her past, the store was profitable, and the housing project was running along just fine without her. She had time at last to relax. What better way to invest that time than by becoming close to her children?**

**"What's a rip saw mama?" asked Ella. **

**"It's a saw that cuts against the grain. That's your Aunt to the letter. She was always a brat, even when we were girls." Scarlett ruffled Ella's curls. "Enough about your Aunt; how was your trip?" **

**Ella smiled, her earlier bout of tears forgotten. "We had ice cream in Atlanta. I had strawberry, Wade had chocolate and he ate two whole bowls then he had a stomach ache." **

**"Poor Wade," said Scarlett reaching a hand out to her son, she pulled him closer to the bed, gingerly he sat on the bed beside his mother. **

**"It was only for a moment," said Wade. **

**"He was almost as green as your eyes mama, I thought he was going be sick all over," announced Ella. **

**"It wasn't that bad," grumbled Wade with a trace of annoyance, he had been so eager to see mother and Ella would have to go and ruin it by upsetting her with stories about his wrongdoings. **

**Scarlett smiled and leaned over to whisper something in Wade's ear. He laughed as she finished. **

**"What did you tell him, I want to know too?" said Ella bouncing rambunctiously on the bed. Her movements jarred Scarlett's hip and she gasped loudly at the sudden, sharp pain that tore through her. **

**Alarmed at his mother's obvious pain Wade turned to his sister. He fully intended to tell her to stop acting like such a wild child. She was going to make their mother sorry that she had sent for them. "Ella stop that you are.."**

**Scarlett cut him off before he could hurt Ella's feelings. A year ago she would have been annoyed that Wade and Ella were bickering but now she only wanted them to both feel welcome. "Too much of a young lady to bounce on the bed," she said tightly even as waves of pain tour through her.**

**Rhett rested his hand on Wade's shoulder. "Wade, why don't you take Ella downstairs and ask my mother if your rooms are ready."**

**Wade looked at the way his mother's lips were pinched together. Not in exasperation or annoyance, but in pain. He dimly remembered his Aunt Melly looking that way during her convalesce at Tara after his cousin Beau had been born. **

**There was a half buried memory of him bouncing on her bed, his Aunt Melly crying out in pain and his mother scolding him for jostling her. Now his mother was in pain from Ella jostling her. His strong fearless mother who never wavered in the face of anything, sick? In pain? That couldn't be possible. **

**All his life while she'd been alive his Aunt Melly had told him stories about his brave father but something Mammy had once said to him stuck. "Mista Wade, yo daddy sure was brave but if you half as brave as what your mother is then that's more than most people." Now he could see how desperately she was trying to stay brave for him and Ella. His heart swelled with love for her. She wasn't the sort of mother to lavish affection on them, but she was always there for him, for his sister. Now it was his turn to be there for her if he could.**


	43. deditus::::devoted

"Yes sir," Wade said bravely, smiling at his mother.

"I want to stay here with mother," chirped Ella.

Scarlett forced herself to speak gently in a voice that wouldn't alarm her children. She was wild with agony, like an animal caught in a trap whose back has been broken instead of the neck. "Ella, do as your father asks."

Rhett was moved deeply despite the fact it was most likely a slip of the tongue that had just given him the title father. Despite the gravity of the current situation it touched him to know that she had meant what she'd told him earlier in the week about her considering him Wade and Ella's father.

"But mama..," whined Ella.

Rhett lifted her fro the bed and tickled her even as he set her back on her feet. "Go on Ella, your mother and I need to speak privately, you can come back in a little while."

Wade caught Ella's hand in his own and tugged her along with him. "Come on Ella, I'll let you chose your room first."

Wade's offer was just the encouragement Ella needed. She dutifully followed her brother into the hall and seconds later two sets of footfalls could be heard on the front stairs.

With the speed of a panther Rhett hurried to the door and shut it before coming back to her bed. "Doctor Cross?"

She shook her head no even as she began to sob helplessly. Gingerly Rhett seated himself on the bed next to her and with exaggerated care drew her into his arms slowly in measures waiting for any indication that he was causing her additional pain.

"She didn't mean to hurt me," said Scarlett softly through her tears.

"Sweetheart, I know that. What hurts?"

"My left hip, she bumped into it when she was bouncing and I moved the wrong way trying to," she gasped softly and leaned forward in his arms, shaking.

"I'd feel better if Doctor Cross came to see you, just to look you over." He stroked her hair before smiling ruefully. "Those are words I never expected to speak in my lifetime."

She rested her head against his chest, shuddering with sudden spasms of pain. She only shook her head no again. Rhett frowned.

"I saw your face when you lifted Ella onto the bed. My God you lost every bit of color from your face. You have to be more careful, you're supposed to be resting." He ran his hand up and down her back gently; though he sought to sooth her he also took comfort from just touching her.

"Is your lecture supposed to be comforting me?" she asked before taking several deep breaths.

He rested his chin on the top of her head. "No. I am telling you, stop pushing yourself so hard. You're going to kill yourself. You need to rest and if I have to handcuff you to this bed and stay by your side you are going to rest until you're well again."

His worry was balm on her still bruised ego. To have him hold her and voice his concerns about her health almost made being ill worth it. Why couldn't he have been so attentive after she had lost their baby? If he had then surely she would have realized that he loved her. They could have spent the last few years together instead of the separate hells they had each existed in.

The pain that had gripped her was slowly loosening its hold. She inhaled slowly, filling her lungs before breathing out in stages. She was feeling better. There was no reason to worry; she was well on the road to recovery. His chin still rested on her head and she could feel how tense his jaw was against her scalp. He truly was worried about her poor darling. "Aren't you exaggerating just a bit?" she asked softly.

He moved her gently so that she could rest her head on his chest. His heartbeat echoed in her ear and it was difficult to concentrate as she inhaled the scent of leather and cigars and clean starched linen that was so keenly Rhett.

"Scarlett, do you know what the first doctor to examine you said? He told me that we had better hurry and get you to the fort," he felt his throat constrict as he recalled the original grim assessment of her condition. "He said we had better hurry, he thought they might lose you. You were so pale and your breathing was so shallow that in that moment I regretted every word I said to you in that shack. Scarlett you opened your eyes for an instant and then you moaned and fainted again. You nearly died and it's my fault. If you had died the last words I would have said to you was something about you being a poison in my blood. I claimed that I had escaped from you, that I wouldn't destroy myself for you. Without you I don't know what I would do?"

"Become that old hermit at The Landing," she murmured flippantly.

He grinned in spite of himself. How queer to hear her echo the exact thought he had had earlier, without Scarlett and the children what would have become of him? How long could he have really stayed away before he returned to Atlanta, to his wife?

But his grin faded as he inhaled the fragrance of her hair. Twice in the short span of time they'd been married doctors had come to him with dire predictions. Twice she had been near death because of him. He fought against the urge to hold her tightly. "If you don't recover, if you are in pain months from now I'm responsible." He tipped her chin up so he could look her in the eyes. "You have to get well," he said with a gentle smile, "in part to salve my guilty conscience."

"Rhett, we had an accident. It was an act of God," she smiled at him, her voice gaining a teasing note, "and you Rhett Butler aren't a god, though you may believe differently. Besides I haven't lived the most exemplarily life, maybe this is God punishing me for my numerous sins."

He laughed softly. "There you go making everything about you, as usual."

She fluttered her lashes at him before a seductive smile curved her ruby lips. "As it should be, I warn you I am completely changing the subject starting," before he realized what she was about, Scarlett had reached her hand into Rhett's jacket pocket and withdrawn his pocket watch. He made a grab for it but Scarlett mistook his gesture and thought it was meant to be playful.

"Scarlett, don't. Give me that, please." His voice was firm and if Scarlett had been the type of wife to blindly obey her husband she would have immediately given Rhett back his watch.

Instead she laughed merrily and angled her upper body slightly to temporarily block him. "Don't what? Pick your pocket, I was going to give it back, I assure you." Before he could stop her she popped open the watch. From the way her shoulders tensed he could tell she had immediately noticed the inscription or rather the lack of one.


	44. Penance

The silence hung heavy in the room. Rhett could hear the hitches in her breathing as Scarlett fought back tears at yet another sign of just how fragile a thread their marriage had hung by. Just as she had been coming to the realization that she loved him he had been blotting out one of the few things she had ever done to show she really did care.

He searched for something to say but nothing came to him. It was imperative to him that they discuss what he had done instead of arguing about it or worse still, ignoring it. That would mean allowing one more hurt to hover in the background, waiting, ever present, ever ready to spring forward. That was how they had lived in Atlanta and though he loved her, more than he could express he could not go back to that bleak existence. It would destroy him and there had been one real truth in the words he had spoken to her that night at the shack where they had sheltered after their accident.

He would not destroy himself, not even for her. Love her, yes. Live a life in which he treated her the way he had always longed to, he would embrace that life joyously. Risk death for her; if it was required of him. Yes, he would do all those things and more. But he would never go back to the way things had been in Atlanta. Not when he had glimpsed how life could be between them if they were open about their feeling

There were so many things that he could say but no one thing came to mind, not a single thing he could think to say to banish the hurt that was radiating from her.

She was the one to break the ominous silence. Scarlett's voice was thick as though it was painful for her to speak to him; the teasing lint it had just held had been completely eradicated. "What was it you once told me, about you and your father? 'If thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out.' I'm your right eye, aren't I? And you blotted me out with a vengeance."

He gently turned her face toward him. It was pale and her eyes were sad. Lost. She wanted to cry and she hated to cry more than anything. That tore at him, that once again he had been the one to cause her enough pain to reduce her to tears.

Rhett had spent most of his life never explaining his motives and actions. Now a pair of pained green eyes that glistened with unshed tears moved him to explain without hesitation. "Scarlett, I intended to have it re-engraved…"

She pulled away, wincing slightly but the pain that wracked her soul was far more intense that the aches of her flesh. "You didn't just have this done. There's tarnish in the grooves where the words were buffed out. When did you have this done?"

He wanted to look away; he didn't want her to see the effect her pain was having on him. For years he had been able to speak to her without revealing his true self but now he was somber and his dark eyes held hers with the promise of what could come from this painful moment of unvarnished honesty, if only she could bear to listen. A brief moment of insight into what made him Rhett Butler. "When I was in London."

Her shoulders quivered slightly and he knew that she was fighting more than tears; she was struggling to maintain her hold on her emotions. He wanted only to hold her, to tell her, "Cry it out". But losing control wouldn't help her, not in the long run. It would only make her believe that he thought her helpless and weak. Something that could not be further from the truth, he thought her to be one of the strongest, most self-reliant women he had ever known.

Her voice was without emotion when she finally asked. "When you ran away with Bonnie?"

"Yes," he replied simply without anger or sarcasm. Her estimation was correct on that count, he had run away after the situation between then had spiraled out of control. His control

She snapped the watchcase closed and extended it to him, using only her pointer finger and her thumb as though the watch was tainted by disease instead of anger and bad judgment. "Here."

He took it back from her and clutching it tightly he spoke to her, his voice was soft, but determined. He knew she wanted to simply let the subject drop, but he couldn't leave her to misinterpret his actions at a later date. "It was something I did in anger. I've regretted it repeatedly. I've been meaning to have it re-engraved."

"It doesn't matter now" she replied thickly, "It's your watch, after all, do with it whatever you like."

"Scarlett.."

"Please, would you go and see how Wade and Ella are settling in? I'd like to nap for a little bit. I'm tired."

He turned her face toward his once more, holding her chin gently. "No, I am not leaving this room till I've said what it is I need to. For once you and I are going to finish a conversation without one of us running away or making excuses. When I had the inscription removed I was so angry with you, I hated you as much as I wanted to be with you. I hated myself for wanting nothing more than to return to Atlanta, for no other reason than to see you. I just wanted to be near you even if you didn't love me." He raked his hand through his thick black hair before continuing, "I didn't even consider the possibility that you might have been carrying my child. I swear to you, if I had known nothing would have kept me from coming home to you."

"How was I to tell you," she cried out suddenly, years of harbored resentment at his callous usage and then abandonment of her after the night that they had conceived the child she had lost ripped the words from her lips. "You couldn't face me, so you ran away. You left me with no hope that you might ever return. You took Bonnie and you just left without so much as looking back to see if I wanted you to stay. I did. I wanted you so badly and I couldn't stop hurting, no matter what I did."

"Sweetheart," he said, the frenzied look of despair on her face frightened him. Her eyes were burning and her face was the color of bleached ivory except for the two hectic blotches of red that stained her cheeks. "Scarlett you're…"

"I cried all the time. I cried for you and for my daughter. All I wanted was to know you would come back but I didn't know if you ever would. And then when Doctor Meade told me I was going to have a baby, our baby, I was so happy but I couldn't tell you because I didn't know where you were. I was going to swallow my pride and ask your mother if she knew where you were but then you came home and I fell so it didn't matter any more because my poor baby died."

She began to sob in his arms. After a time he could just make out the words that she cried over and over again in a voice that devoid of all emotions save that of sorrow. The words she cried were branded on his heart just as Mary of England had claimed Calais was on hers. The words she cried over and over were so simple but so heartbreaking they echoed in the depths of his soul. "Why my babies, why?

He had heard of the tradition of keening over the dead, but he had never seen it in practice. Indeed he had never thought to witness the depth of emotion that would lead to such a thing, but now to hear Scarlett sob brokenly for their two dead children he realized that in many ways he only knew the surface of Scarlett Butler. Her surface was made up of the parts of her that she had allowed him to see, but they were not the whole of her. There was a woman inside of her who still mourned not only the child she had borne but also a child who she had never had the opportunity to hold in her arms.

Rhett was not a man easily moved to emotion. Not because he thought a man was less of a man for having them, but because after the jaded existence that had been his adult life there were few things in the world that moved him. Tears began to slow well in his eyes before spilling over to run down his face. He was grateful that Scarlett's face was against his chest because he didn't think he could bear her to be in a position where she might feel the need to swallow her own pain to offer him comfort. He would consider that penance for all of his misdeeds and misconceptions when it came to her.


	45. Deliverance

**There is a lot to be said for clearing the air..by the way I am not going to tell what the inscription is for some time but there are hints in this chapter for the intrepted, see if you can find it on your own...just like a lit treasure hunt :D**

Finally after a time Scarlett's sobs faded to whimpers, then a few hiccups, until gradually only a few shuddering gasps for air shook her slim body.

His voice was low as he spoke the words that she had waited for years to hear. "Scarlett, I'm sorry about what happened to the baby. The baby you lost, I mean," he added though it was unnecessary for him to clarify his statement.

Scarlett didn't speak. She wanted to tell him to shut his mouth before he ruined everything, she wanted to ask him if he had always been sorry or if he only had just decided he regretted her losing their baby, she wanted to ask if he had ever really doubted himself to be the father of her unborn child. She wanted to say anything if it would just stop him from dredging up things better left submerged in the murky depths of their shared past. There were so many things she could say but the words wouldn't come. Scarlett was so surprised at his unexpected words that she only nodded; knowing that he could feel her head as she moved it up and down against his chest.

Scarlett couldn't help but look back. Back to the months that they dwelt in a strange state of limbo once she had returned to the Peachtree Street house from her convalescence at Tara. How strange he had been to her in the months after her fall, unfailing polite and courteous; so much so that she thought that eventually he might tell her that he was sorry that they had lost their child. She hadn't expected him to take any of the actual blame in being partially responsible for the hot venomous words they had exchanged that had led to her attempting to claw his eyes out, but she thought that he would at least fill his mouth with some bland platitude about being sorry, or sad. She had thought that he would tell her there could be more children, wasn't that one of the things people said after a miscarriage? She would have willingly tried for another child if he would only tell her that he had wanted the baby that she had lost. But then again she had finally reasoned, perhaps he didn't care if she had a child or not. He had Bonnie to love and Belle to take to bed so really what would another child with her mean to him?

Did he care or not? For a long while she had wanted and longed to know his mind on that particular subject, but that time was now past. She had in the end been grateful that he hadn't raised the subject because a year ago she could finally lock that bleak time away in a barren room in her mind and turn a blind eye on the painful memories behind that door.

Still there was another reason to be glad that he hadn't discussed what losing the baby had meant to him. There had been another scenario that a small fearful part of her soul envisioned. She was afraid that he would be angry with her because of her violent temper. Though she knew him to be just as much at fault for their argument as she had been she, in her heart of hearts, knew the sad truth of that dark day. But knowing inside one's own self and hearing accusations hurled are two completely separate entities. If he had taken her to task she really would have clawed his eyes out. She had long ago wondered if he had ever come to the same realization she had, that if she had just turned her back and fled his cruel mocking words then closeted herself in her room the baby would have been born.

"Scarlett? Are you awake?" She was so still he wondered if she had simply worn herself out with her earlier bout of weeping and drifted off.

"I'm awake," she murmured.

"You didn't say anything."

Her voice was steady but it was low as though she was afraid to rouse sleeping dragons. "What is there to say at this late date? I'll admit I once wondered if you regretted what happened, if you were sad or relieved…"

"Relieved? "

"You told me you thought Ashley...that Ashley was the one who…that I…" she failed in her attempt to voice the ugly accusation veiled in a nonchalant question that Rhett had asked that fateful day. "How? How could you believe that? You could believe that he and I…"

He shook her slightly without meaning to in an attempt to still the words that he could not face. If she continued on in the vein she was currently in it would be only a matter of time till she repeated the most hateful vile thing he had ever said to her, 'Cheer up, maybe you'll have a miscarriage.' He moved her long ebony locks away from her face so he could see her pale oval face. She pulled away from his hands as though they would soil her.

Once when they had been children Rhett and his cousin Eustace had spent a productive day building a mud and pebble damn near the incline where the field irrigation runoff ran. By the end of the day they had created enough of a back up that Everett Bailey had come down to investigate. He had told the boys that while their piece of engineering was mighty handsome it would have to come down because it was causing the run off water to cease to drain properly. He had taken a large branch and pushed out the center of their makeshift damn. For several minutes the dammed up water spilled out in a raging torrent. Rhett had been amazed that the small trickle of water had swelled to a rushing river just by a few hours of forced containment. Now he was aghast at seeing the effect damning up Scarlett's emotions had had on her. The words kept pouring out in a rush of anger and despair.

Her green eyes were wide as she began to verbalize the words he'd feared she might, "You didn't want the baby, you told me that to stop being worrying, maybe I'd hav…"

"Stop it," he shouted passionately. "I had no right to say what I did to you. No wonder you didn't want a baby, at least not my baby. You didn't want a baby and I made you. Everything that happened to you was all my God damned fault. I was drunk and insane and I wanted to hurt you because you had hurt me. I wanted to make you forget Ashley Wilkes I was mad, crazy with jealousy. It didn't matter that you didn't want me. I wanted you and that's what mattered in my mind, what I wanted, what I needed…"

She was shaking in his embrace, fury and forgiveness at war in her breast. She wanted to shout down the curses of the furies on him for what he had said. How he had tainted what could have been a new start between them. But as his face grew ashen and drawn she also wanted to offer him absolution. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him and that they could salvage their marriage and glue it's shattered fragments back together. They could ignore the fine cracks that testified to mending. She loved him; she couldn't stop. She didn't want to ever be without him again. The past was just that, the past, it needed to be left there.

Rhett was still speaking but it was his next words that decided things for her one way or the other.

"I forced myself on you…"

"No," she moaned, horrified. "I wanted you that night, I did. You didn't force me to do anything except maybe look at how I really felt about you. When you went away I missed you desperately. I wanted you to come home before the baby was born but I didn't know where to find you. I didn't even know for sure if you would come home. But you didn't force me. Don't you dare go thinking that you did." Tears poured from her eyes as she continued. "I wanted our baby."

"I did too," he whispered as he wiped the tears from her pale cheeks.

She closed her eyes tightly for a moment before opening them to met his curious gaze. "Tell me why you had my engraving buffed out."

"Couldn't we discus this another time? It will keep."

"No. I think we should just finish this now, rather than later. I want to know and then we'll forget about it."

He admired her. She could face almost anything, no matter how unpleasant, head on. How could he not love this woman, how could he have ever tried to make himself stop?

His voice, when he began to speak, was strained by the conflicting emotions that speaking about that trip to England brought out into the light of day. Bonnie had been happy there, for a time. But after the first two weeks she had begun to ask, "Where's my mother? Why didn't she come with us?" several times a day. She had finally told him, just as her mother once had, to take her home. And he had complied because he only wanted to make his princess happy.

"One day when Bonnie was playing with the children of a former business partner with her nursemaid I spent several hours at a club playing cards and drinking scotch till I could hardly see straight. Someone at the table asked me what the time was and I opened my pocket watch to tell him. All I could see was that damned inscription. I remember staggering out of the place after throwing a handful of cash on the table. I passed a jeweler," he laughed quietly, "as fate would have it, it was the same establishment that I bought that vulgar thing that I presented to you as an engagement ring. I had the same jeweler I bought your engagement ring from remove the inscription from your wedding present."

His dark eyes were somber as they looked into her emerald eyes, searching for understanding. "When you fell, I regretted what I had done and then again in the hospital, while I waited for you to wake up, I wondered what had possessed me."

"But I don't understand why did you keep the watch? If you hated me why didn't you just throw it away?"

"I wanted to hurl my watch into the Thames, but I couldn't. You bought it for me with your own money and that had touched me. So, in a drunken moment of inspiration, produced a compromise. I had the jeweler buff off the inscription. I had so little of you to claim as my own I wasn't willing to completely lose a piece of you." He leaned forward and when she didn't move away he brushed his lips against hers. "I am going to have it re-engraved. I'll go this minute if you like."

She sighed and rested her hand on his chest, over his heart. "No don't bother."

"If you look at from my side, you might see how I could be so disgusted with the words you selected. It was an unpleasant thing to stomach, the knowledge that Ashley Wilkes picked out the lines you had engraved on my wedding present."

It was the look on her face, the complete look of confusion in her eyes that convinced him of the error of that long held belief. Before she said a word to refute his charges, he knew that he had been wrong. Once again he had misjudged her.

"Ashley? But Ashley didn't pick those words. You did."

"How do you mean?"

"On our honeymoon you took me to see that play Much ado about nothing, do you remember?"

"I do, but that verse isn't from the play. It's from one of Shakespeare's sonnets."

She rolled her eyes, amazed that she could so easily remember the lines they had heard that night while he seemed to have all but forgotten them. "Which they recited just before the intermission. At the end you begun to laugh as though someone had told you the most amusing thing you'd ever heard. Whether you believe me or not, I had decided to buy you a wedding present, but I hadn't found the right thing. I jotted the lines down because I knew I'd never be able to recall them later. Just the end bit and the part about scarlet ornaments because I thought that my name being in a famous poem was amusing. When we returned to Atlanta I went to Melly to ask if she knew the piece. I figured it would be in one of the volumes of Shakespeare we dragged back for her and Ashley from New Orleans. She found it and then, poor thing, she tried to explain it to me. That was a lost cause. She either giggled or blushed through most of it. I understood that it was about people that were in love, possibly. Or that should be in love. To be perfectly honest I understood it was in English and that you thought it was amusing, that was good enough for me. I was afraid that if I passed on the poem I had found Melly might force me to sit through more. As you know I have to be bedridden to sit through impromptu poetry readings."

He laughed at her outright candor. She had, in the last year, learned to occasionally poke fun at herself and he found that to be incredibly attractive.

She crossed her arms across her chest and thrust out her lip in an attempt at petulance but the dancing light in her brilliant emerald eyes told him a different story. She was wounded, hurting in many ways that were both in the open and still dormant but she was determined to move forward with him.

Scarlett pushed against his chest and laughed even as she tried to continue to pretend to be annoyed. "Laugh if you must but I never pretended to be a scholar, it's one of the few things that I can't be held liable for. I can't say that I understand why you found that portion so funny but Melly did. She thought that you saw a lot of yourself in that poem. She said that there were things that might have made you think of me." She shook her hand ruefully before reproaching him. "So you've been angry for years over one of the few things I did to show you that I was at the very least fond of you and grateful to you for all that you had done for me."

He raked his hand quickly through his thick black hair and his mouth turned down suddenly, for an instant she thought he was angry, but when he spoke the guilt was clear in the three words he uttered under his breath. "That damned sign."

"I'm sorry?"

He jammed his watch back into his pocket. "When you wanted to rename your store I told you to call it Caveat Emporium, I told you to call it that because I was disgusted with you over the source of the inscription."

Her face flushed angrily and her eyes widened furiously. "I was almost the laughing stock of the town, you do realize that?"

He shrugged under her angry gaze his face lost much of its expression till it was the same emotionless mask she'd always known, "I counted on it."

Scarlett met his expressionless gaze with a haughty lift of her chin. She met his eye and held it. "If you had only asked me why I had picked those lines I would have told you. I expected that you would remember the poem because of how much you'd enjoyed it." Her voice caught in her throat before she continued, her voice shook slightly but she wanted him to hear all that she needed to say. "That's why you and I were constantly at odds with one another, your need to make me look ridiculous."

Rhett didn't speak but instead pulled her close to his chest and held her tightly as though she might escape the protective circle of his arms. "From here on out I promise you no more knee jerk reactions fueled by spite. If I want to know something I'll ask. I swear to you, never again will I judge you blindly. Now that we are finally here, together I won't ruin this for us nor will I let you shut me out. It took us over a decade to reach here."

"You're counting that afternoon at Twelve Oaks in that estimation, aren't you?" she asked with a smirk.

"I most certainly am. I remember everything about those few minutes we spent together but that memory almost doesn't matter because we are so far away from there. We've made more progress in the last few weeks than we did in the entire course of our acquaintance. We have let too many things come between us, Ashley Wilkes, the hurt I felt when I realized I couldn't make you love me, losing the baby and Bonnie. There isn't anything in Charleston from our past to keep us from having a future. You don't have your businesses to hide away at and I don't have Belle's. We have time, all the time we need to put the past behind us."

He leaned forward and brushed his lips tentatively against her soft red lips, the bottom lip was still slightly swollen from the way she had been nervously chewing on it after Doctor Cross had left earlier that morning. The doubt and reluctance to trust him was gone, lost in the swirling whirlpool of desire his lips on hers incited. She wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back with everything that she wanted to say but couldn't find the words to voice.

His kisses soon grew more demanding and she found herself yielding to his intrusive tongue as it sought entrance to her own mouth. She not only allowed him to kiss her so scandalously, but she met his invading tongue with her own, mimicking his actions.

A knock at the bedroom door tore them apart as Rhett released her with a hoarse groan and a muttered curse.


	46. Lazarus

"Come in," Rhett called sharply, trying to conceal his annoyance at the interruption.

Eleanor entered Scarlett's room, she had been reluctant to interrupt them but Doctor Cross had insisted. Initially she had asked if he could return later in the day, he had apologized but told her that would not be possible. He was scheduled for a two-day speaking engagement at The Medical College of South Carolina so he would be unable to see Scarlett till the 28th.

He stated succinctly in his usual brusque but his polite manner that he only wished to see Scarlett for a moment to examine her before leaving for his engagement. Though she understood his reasons for wanting to see Scarlett Eleanor had still tried to dissuade him from seeing Scarlett. She knew that her son and daughter in law were involved in something extremely involved.

For nearly half an hour she could hear yelling coming from behind Scarlett's closed door but just minutes before Jason Cross had darkened her doorstep the yelling had faded. She had stood before the door to Scarlett's bedroom, her hand resting on the knob, wondering whether or not to interrupt them.

Eleanor Butler was not an eavesdropper by nature but she held her breath as she stood outside the door, her ears pricked trying to catch the gist of the conversation. When she heard Rhett's deep teasing laughter she exhaled in relief. What ever had been the matter had been smoothed over. After Rhett's burst of laughter there was a muted buzz of conversation, then silence. Whatever was currently happening upstairs was no less than wonderful and Eleanor was honestly annoyed at the unexpected, unannounced appearance of Doctor Jason Cross

Attempting one more time to dismiss him she told him that Scarlett's children had only just arrived but he had only nodded sharply and repeated that his examination would be over in a matter of minutes.

Eleanor was coming to dislike Doctor Cross. At first she had thought Rhett was wrong to bear the man a grudge based on the bad blood between their family and the Cross family, but after having spent so much time in close proximity to Doctor Cross over the last week she was beginning to see Rhett's point of view. The man was gratingly arrogant. Though his manners were elegant and hard to directly fault he was still somehow sarcastic in a most condescending way. He was inclined to look right through a person unless he was trying to charm them. Then he was the sprit of warmth and ambiguity. The warmth that radiated from him then on first glance looked and felt genuine. It was only after prolonged exposure that his warmth took on a contrived quality. It was as though he had to actually remember to be human

"I'm sorry to bother you my dears but Doctor Cross is here to see Scarlett," said Eleanor. Watching the way Rhett's expression darkened at the mere mention of Doctor Cross Miss Eleanor prayed fervently that Rosemary would exercise any tender thoughts of Doctor Cross from her mind.

"Were you expecting him?" Rhett asked Scarlett, as he rose carefully so as not to jostle her.

Scarlett paled visibly. Damn Jason Cross, was he going to ruin everything by telling Rhett about what Ross had done, or worse still had he come to disclose his intentions towards Rosemary. "No," she replied softly, "I wasn't expecting him."

Eleanor watched Scarlett thoughtfully. Just the sound of Jason Cross's name had unnerved her and Eleanor was fairly sure she knew the source of Scarlett's nervous countenance. Scarlett and Rosemary were as thick as thieves these days.

Couldn't Scarlett see just how enraged Rhett would be if he caught a hint of gossip concerning Rosemary and Doctor Cross. Giving Scarlett the benefit of the doubt she concluded that she couldn't know how much Rhett despised the Cross family. If she did know she wouldn't dare help Rosemary in this foolhardy undertaking.

"He has a speaking engagement that will occupy the next two days, he told me he just wanted to make sure Scarlett's recuperation was progressing," explained Eleanor, her attention still on Scarlett who had perked up upon hearing the reason for Jason Cross's visit. That compounded Miss Eleanor's resolve to speak with Scarlett about things better left alone, such as her sister in law's love life.

"Send him up mother, the sooner he's up here and gone, the sooner I can enjoy two days without his surprise visits." Rhett adjusted the pillow behind Scarlett's back and she smiled up at him gratefully. Without hesitation, despite his mother's presence, Rhett lovingly ran his thumb, pointer, and middle fingers down her smooth cheek. She blushed delicately and smiled modestly her eyes glowed with happiness.

Watching Rhett's current treatment of Scarlett pleased Eleanor immensely. For so long her son had been a polite but distant stranger. He was the perfect son, unfailingly kind to her and attentive to Rosemary, but his smiles were void of real joy. She had seen the way Rhett had lavished affection on his small beautiful daughter. Long before his visit with Bonnie she had seen the glow in his eyes when he'd talk about the mystery woman that he was infatuated with in Atlanta.

One of the memories that Eleanor Butler would cling to for the rest of her life was the memory of that stormy afternoon in late November when Rhett had walked into the drawing room to find his wife sitting demurely in a wingback chair with the determined light of battle in her startling green eyes. For the first time in such a long time Rhett had looked as though he was no longer sleepwalking through his life. He had been angry, infuriated even and if Rhett wasn't such a gentleman she would have feared for Scarlett's safety.

As the season had progressed so had Rhett's reawakening. The way he spoke to Scarlett had been polite the way one would treat a guest, however; the way his dark eyes followed her slim form when Scarlett wasn't aware of his scrutiny was very revealing. He would watch her when men would dance with her, feigning amusement at Scarlett's emergence as the belle of the 1872 season. But beneath that amusement was the barest hint of disappointment coupled with something else; it was only after several such incidents that Miss Eleanor knew for sure what the something else was. It was regret. Rhett wanted to be the one holding his beautiful wife on the dance floor and knowing him the way only a mother could she could tell that he resented the attentions paid to Scarlett by other men. The saddest thing, in Miss Eleanor's estimation, was that Rhett refused to see that Scarlett would have cut every one of her dance partners dead in a trice if Rhett would only met her a quarter of the way.

Miss Eleanor knew him to be capable of intense emotion. He had loved Bonnie so deeply that her death had robbed him of the zest for life that had always been such an intrinsic part of Rhett's being. When Scarlett had arrived in November she had challenged Rhett, infuriated him, rejuvenated him just by being in the same house. For the first time since he had come home battered and weary her son had looked…alive. Scarlett had done that. She had forced Rhett to acknowledge her by never surrendering in the face of his anger and cold indifference. Like Lazarus, Rhett had risen from the dead to finally reclaim his life and Eleanor knew that a great deal of Rhett's resurrection had been sparked by Scarlett's presence. For that alone Miss Eleanor could never repay Scarlett.

The very least she could do was help Scarlett avoid disaster. But that was a conversation for later, at present the pretty picture her son and daughter in law made caused Miss Eleanor to smile genuinely. "The children are in their rooms Scarlett. They seem to be settling in nicely. They've both picked their rooms without so much as a word of dissention and I believe Penny is just helping them unpack. They've already spoken of things they'd like to see and do during their visit. I think you did exactly the right thing in bringing them here."

"Thank you Miss Eleanor," said Scarlett sincerely, her smile was beautiful to behold. "Thank you for…" she lifted her hands with a laugh, "well everything."

Eleanor smiled at her beautiful daughter in law before going downstairs to escort Doctor Cross up. He was standing just to the left of the stairs jotting notes in a small leather bound journal. She took advantage of the opportunity to better study the man Rosemary was willing to throw her family into upheaval over. He was handsome but unsmiling as he closed the slim book and slid it into his frock coat pocket. Miss Eleanor cleared her throat slightly to alert him to her presence.

"Scarlett is waiting for you Doctor Cross."

He smiled benignly, but somehow she couldn't accept his smile as a true indication of his inner workings. "Thank you Mrs. Butler. If you have something else to attend to I know the way up, please don't stand on ceremony on my account."

"I was actually just heading upstairs to check in on Scarlett's children," lied Miss Eleanor, her face composed into a pleasant smile that never reached her eyes.


	47. Ascension

Selecting a single piece of creamy beige stationary Julia Ashley picked up a steel-nib pen from the sterling silver desk set with cranberry glass inserts that had belonged to her father's mother, Sarah Marion Ashley. Sarah's own father had been a Marion of the Cooper River Marions, one of the first families to settle in Charleston just after the settlement was moved from the current site of Ashley Plantation. There was another set that was nearly identical to it in her bedroom, but that set with had blue cobalt glass instead of cranberry red.

To anyone else these exquisite desk sets were simply elegant desk accessories, but in Julia's eyes they were tangible links to the past of Ashley Plantation. Sarah Marion Ashley had brought back both sets from Prague where she and Arthur Ashley had honeymooned. After the assault on Fort Sumter Julia had resigned herself to the only course of action that made sense, though it tore her into pieces to do it.

The treasures of Ashley House had to be hidden away in order to insure their safety. Among the final pieces to be concealed were the inkstands. Julia herself wrapped each stand in sacking, she had trusted no one else when it came to such an important task, and reluctantly but knowing it was for the best she had placed them under the floorboards of the summer kitchen where they would reside during the duration of the war.

Julia had been elated when she had finally been able to unearth her treasures from under various floorboards, from the kitchen garden well, and various shallow pits in the rice fields of Ashley Plantation. She had arrived at the end of the war with nearly all of the ancestral artifacts of Ashley House still in Ashley hands.

In a moment of inspiration Julia had horded numerous worthless knickknacks in the concealed room in the attic. It would be difficult if not impossible for anyone other than herself or someone familiar with the room's location to find it as it's entrance was a cleverly concealed handless door built to look like any other stretch of attic wall.

Many of the pieces were shiny brass or pretty but inexpensive china, things that had been gifts from well meaning friends and relatives. For years Julia had held onto these things simply because it would be impolite to dispose of them. Now finally these dust gathering bits of bric-a-brac would serve a purpose. The hidden room that had once housed a great-great uncle of Julia's on the Greer side who was touched in the head would now house a stockpile of disposable "valuables."

After a group of Yankees would descend on the Plantation she would remove a few more nearly worthless knickknacks from the hidden room. She would then place them in conspicuous places throughout the house. The next squadron never left empty handed thus mollifying their tempers. Each group, though disappointed that such a grand house didn't have more to offer, assumed that the preceding troop had seized the rich booty that such a palatial home had surely once possessed. How many times had she watched, a sneer ready to spring to her lips, as a greedy buffoon snatched a brass candlestick or ugly candy dish and stuffed it into his pocket? Ten times? Twenty? In the end none of that mattered, what mattered was that she had managed in one fell swoop to rid herself of knickknacks that she had despised all the while retaining the priceless pieces that had been in the family for generations.

It inflated her already enormous ego to even great proportions when she would glance at a certain morceau d'art or an heirloom of great sentimental value and know that it occupied its present place because of her efforts and cunning. She had always known, even as a young girl that it would be in her hands to ensure the continued existence of Ashley Plantation and it's treasures.

Running her pointer finger gently across the pen cup of the inkstand her mind came back to the task at hand. Since visiting with Rhett Butler the other day an idea had taken tentative root in her mind and after a great deal of careful deliberation she had decided to allow it to flourish. While discussing her daffodils, the contribution she had made to the Plantation, she had given voice to a recent but now nearly constant worry of hers, who to leave Ashley Plantation to? Who would come after her?

Her brothers had fathered a croup of worthless daughters. Well, Julia mused thoughtfully, not worthless as such, just not men. Some of her nieces were fine young woman, but in view of the legacy of Ashley Plantation they were worth nothing. To make matters worse, in turn none of them had given birth to a single boy. For the first time in 200 years the Ashley property was in danger of being divided up amongst a group of heirs. That was unacceptable to Julia. How could her brothers all fail in the one task that mattered, furthering the line? Julia blamed them all individually and en mass for failing where the preceding generations had succeeded. Not one of them had fathered a male child.

It would have done no good to point out to Julia that she herself had never married and given birth. She would have shrugged off that observation with the counter point no child of her body would have borne the Ashley name therefore there had been no real need for her to marry. Now though as she was nearing the end of her reign supreme at Ashley Plantation she had begun to re-examine her failure to wed, perhaps she would have born a male child. Perhaps she should have married her cousin Bartley Ashley. He had been nearly twenty years older than she and cross-eyed in the bargain but at least they might have produced a male heir.

But she had not married and now she was the last Ashley of the direct Ashley line. The estate would be sold upon her death and divided like a cake amongst greedy children. The codicils in the estate trust were clear, so long as there was a male heir of the main line of Ashley's descending from the Lord Protector Ashley's line he would inherit the estate in it's entirety. If there was no male heir upon the death of the last female Ashley of that branch the estate would be sold and divided unless other arrangements were made or if the property was sold before the death of the last female Ashley.

Her brothers had all coveted the property but none of them had ever dared to try and force their formidable older sister out of her long held position of the day to day running of the plantation after their father had died. Each had considered it, but in the end none had tried. The plantation was an entity all it's own, it's sheer scope dictated the course of it's owner's life. In the end not one of them had been willing to surrender themselves to the yoke of responsibility. Leave it to Julia they had all agreed during a family meeting when they had all been pretending they had any say over whether or not Julia would step down as mistress of Ashley Plantation. If Julia wanted the plantation so badly, she was welcome to it.

Upon her death there would be no Ashley's left of her direct line of descent. There were numerous young women with Ashley blood on their mother's side but none directly bore the name Ashley. The plantation would be sold with the proceeds being distributed amongst the daughters of her brothers.

But could there be a way to leave the plantation to one of her grand nieces, intact, without any other family member being able to put forth a claim? After Rhett had departed the idea of who would follow after her had nagged at her, who indeed?

Attempting to turn her mind toward another topic she had let herself enjoy Scarlett's triumph over her pigheaded husband. From the way Rhett's face had changed whenever he mentioned his wife she just knew that he was completely head over heels in love with the girl once more. She just wished he hadn't been so standoffish when it came to giving that young woman another baby, it would be a good thing for Scarlett to have a child to help keep her anchored in Charleston. If they had a baby Scarlett would be far more inclined toward staying near the baby's grandmother and great-aunts. That scenario suited Julia down to the ground, as she was growing rather fond of the girl. Scarlett had gumption and passion, traits that Charleston needed.

Rhett had better hurry and give his wife a son or he'll be in the same position I am when it comes to who'll come next, thought Julia as she viscously yanked a clump of faux wheat from one of the annual beds. It would be such a waste if he rebuilt the Landing only to have no one to carry on after him. Still he was at least slightly better off than Julia. He had a stepson, Scarlett's son by her first husband, so there was a young man of his acquaintance who could take on the responsibility of continuing Rhett's efforts to rebuild Dunmore Landing.

She paused in mid-yank. Rhett had a son, of sorts. Rhett whose property boarded on her own had someone to come after him. A stepson. That was when it came to her, a plan. A plan that was as ingenious as it was multi-faceted had formed in her orderly mind. There was one way to pass on the Landing without anyone being able to do a damn thing about it. Her plan was simple and straightforward in it's purpose, but for it to work she would have to do something she despised, engage in day to day contact with at least three of her adolescent nieces.

The first letter to her eldest niece, Augusta, practically wrote itself. Augusta was mother to Caroline, Julia's pet. Out of the lot of her grand nieces it was on Caroline that she pinned her hopes for the future of the Ashley Plantation..

In her elegant script as her hand moved above the paper the ink flowed readily, without so much as a blotch or smudge to mar the perfection of her correspondence.

_Augusta,_

_I hope this missive finds you and you Theodore well. I am requesting the pleasure of Caroline's company for a currently unknown duration of time. I could waste my time and yours pretending this is an invitation to be considered, however; as you are no doubt well aware I do not simply extend invitations for the sheer enjoyment of having company come calling. _

_I trust Caroline will be here by Monday._

_With sincere regards,_

_Julia_

Skimming it quickly she found no fault with her letter's contents. Neatly she folded the letter into thirds. There one finished, thought Julia. What a relief, Augusta's was the only affectionate letter she had to compose. The other two would be far more straightforward. One letter to her niece Natalie informing her that she would be expecting her great niece Lillian's arrival at Ashley Plantation on Tuesday, and the final letter to Madelia, her great niece Alice's mother informing her that she would be expecting Alice to arrive on Wednesday. By staggering her great nieces arrivals she could conduct private interviews with each girl to decide which young lady merited her support. Only one could marry and through that marriage insure the continued existence of Ashley Plantation.

It was a brilliant plan but certain aspects of it left her uneasy. So much of it depended on other people and if there was one thing that left Julia cold it was the thought of having to depend on any one other than herself. Even with that concern she couldn't help but believe that her plan would succeed. She was sure that Scarlett would leap at the opportunity to secure an Ashley bride for her son, what was the boy's name? William? No, that wasn't it, but after a moment of searching it came to her, Wade, Wade Hamilton. Scarlett could do no better for her son, not if she searched the entire south. The blood of generations of noble forebears flowed in the veins of all three girls. They were descended from the same stock as Julia herself. What mother could hope for better?

The front-runner, at least to Julia's mind, was Caroline Greer. Caroline was her favorite great niece. Though she was not a warm woman or a dotting aunt she loved Caroline deeply. She simply and wholeheartedly adored Caroline. But then, how could she not adore Caroline? At just thirteen she was well on her way to becoming a beauty of great renown. Her mother was an Ashley through her father, Gregory, the most beloved of Julia's brothers.

From her grandfather Gregory Caroline had inherited the stormy gray eyes of the Ashley's. Her fair skin was tinted with rose keeping her from that unhealthy pallor that so many young women pretended to covet. Her natural wavy hair was same shade as the bark of a dogwood tree, a deep rich brown without so much as a hint of red. Caroline on the surface was the perfect young lady, comporting herself with perfect manners and endless grace, her beauty convincing most people into thinking she was pliable and easily led. But Julia knew better, it was Caroline's eyes that betrayed her true nature. Stormy, unpredictable, ready to dig her heels in till she got her way.

Yes, Caroline was her darling, her pride and joy and she made no apologies for her preference for Caroline over all of her other nieces. Julia loved her so much that the entire family had wondered aloud to one another was it, because Caroline the daughter Julia had never produced? There was a very small crumb of truth in that, Caroline did remind Julia of herself. But it was more than that. Caroline possessed an iron will at the tender age of thirteen, at twenty-three, she'd be a force to be reckoned with. Who better to preserve the legacy of Ashley Plantation than Caroline?

When Rhett and Rosemary had brought Scarlett with them to tea just before New Year's Eve Julia had nearly dismissed Rhett's wife as a vapid pretty witless doll creature. At first Julia could find nothing special about her except her beautiful face. Oh she had been amused that a man like Rhett Butler had been at one time so swayed by the idea of a beautiful young wife that he had ignored her intellectual and emotional shortcomings.

That was a man for you, she had thought waspishly, no matter what they said to the contrary all it took in the end was a pretty face and they were caught. It was only while passing a plate to Scarlett that she had chanced to look into Scarlett's eyes. That one brief moment had been enough to completely turn Julia's earlier dismissal into curious interest.

After further observation of Scarlett Butler Julia completely revised her earlier assumption. As shallow as it might have seemed it had been Scarlett's eyes, of all things, that had won her Julia's support. Scarlett's slanted brilliant green eyes were what gave her away even when she desperately tried to conceal her turbulent thoughts and reckless nature that afternoon.

From there Julia had begun to wonder if those eyes had been what had first attracted Rhett attention, perhaps it had not just been Scarlett's pretty face but those shimmering haunting green eyes? It must have been intoxicating to look in Scarlett's eyes and always know what was on her mind.

But perhaps it had also been more than a little disconcerting for Rhett to know that no matter how hard he tried to believe otherwise once Scarlett had arrived in Charleston he was always on her mind. It was there in the way she fought back tears when he ignored her. In her eyes was all the love she wanted to give him if only he'd open himself to it. Julia had seen it and she knew that the ever astute Rhett Butler could see it too. He could pretend that it didn't matter but he could not pretend that it wasn't there.

Yes, Scarlett had reminded her of Caroline when it came to the secrets that could be revealed just by watching the eyes of each of them. To compare Scarlett with Caroline, in Julia's estimation the most valuable of all the things to come down through the Ashley family showed just how highly Julia had come to regard Scarlett.

But there was a chance that Wade might not take to Caroline, though the eventuality of that outcome seemed all but unbelievable. How could anyone not adore Caroline? But still on the very off chance that he didn't Alice would be waiting in the wings. And if not Alice then Lillian; or if not Lillian then Amber, or Charlotte, or Sarah Lynn. There was a nearly inexhaustible supply of girls born to daughters of the Ashley brothers. And if not an Ashley then there were some Cooper girls that in a pinch might do or Marion's, Julia knew one thing for certain that even if it took her all of the years that were left to her she would find a wife of her blood line for Scarlett's son. Through him and some legal maneuverings the Plantation would continue on intact.

Of Wade the prospective future master of Ashley Plantation she knew little outside what she had heard from Rhett and Scarlett. He was a Hamilton of the Virginia Hamiltons, making him kin to the Burrs of Macon and the Virginia Wilkes'. On his mother's side there was the elusive Robillard bloodline. The thought of a Robillard marrying into the Ashley family almost made Julia Ashley grin, or indeed it would have if she were inclined so such doltish displays of happiness. What a match those two young people would make she thought with a small smile, her beautiful great niece and Scarlett's as yet unseen son. If the boy took after his mother even a tiny bit he should be handsome enough. Scarlett had mentioned the boy was very well read, that would go far toward endearing him to Caroline. Caroline was an avid reader who all but devoured books.

With a small nod of approval Julia rang for one of the housemaids, the letters would have to be hand delivered before the end of the day to ensure the prompt arrival of her great nieces. The thought that any of the girls' mothers or father would refuse to allow their daughter to come did not so much as occur to Julia, not even for an instant. Refusals were things that happened to other people.


	48. Daniel In the Lion's Den

**Miss Eleanor's opinion of Doctor Cross had changed dramatically over the last two weeks, now she could only hope that Scarlett's recovery would soon reach a point where Doctor Cross's continual visits would cease. The sooner Scarlett recovered the better, not just for herself but also for the Butler family. Rhett was right; Miss Eleanor knew in her heart that her son was not prejudiced against Jason Cross simply because he was a Cross. **

**When it came to Jason Cross it was something more than bad blood though in truth it was a vague something, like a hair brushing one's cheek. A slight sensation and then it was gone leaving only the memory. It was impossible to put her finger on it but one thing was for certain, she no longer wanted Jason Cross in her home. Miss Eleanor didn't trust him, though she had no real reason not to. He hadn't overstepped any boundaries but there was just something about the man that had begun to sit poorly with her. **

**The better part of her distrust stemmed from the suspicion that he had designs on Rosemary. The good Lord himself only knew what if any interest the man had in Rosemary, but that was about to come to a swift end if she had anything to say about it. Her daughter was twenty-three which meant she was no longer a child but at the same time she was so naïve in so many ways. Certainly in the way of a man's intentions toward a woman, she couldn't stand to have Rosemary's heart broken and that was the only thing that could come of allowing her to believe that Rhett might relent and allow her to be courted by a Cross.**

**Rhett would see Jason Cross in his grave before he'd see him as Rosemary's beau. That was all the Butler family needed, after years of not being received Rhett had finally reclaimed his rightful place in Charleston Society. In a world of tradition and memories as long as time itself he had managed to put to rest old gossip. He had made so much progress in the last year and now with Sally and Julia taking such an avid interest in Rhett's wife people were finally able to dismiss Rhett's misdeeds years ago as a young man who had just been too high spirited for his own good. Scarlett's children had arrived and Rhett would no doubt be seen escorting them around town.**

**Rhett's devotion to his sick wife was already the topic of many conversations about town. The women of Charleston sighed dramatically behind their painted fans, Scarlett Butler was lucky to have such a devoted husband they would remark, their voices softened with memories of loves long lost. But that approval could disappear in an instant if Rhett found out about Rosemary's interest in Doctor Cross. Though Miss Eleanor knew Rosemary's intentions toward Doctor Cross were those of a tender hearted school girl she had no idea what if anything Doctor Cross felt toward her daughter. If his intentions were less than honorable Rhett would react immediately to protect Rosemary. Charleston would buzz with scandal if Rhett were forced to defend his sister's honor at the hands of a Cross. The thought of history repeating itself was incentive enough to put a stop to whatever hare brained scheme Rosemary and Scarlett had conceived.**

**They reached Scarlett's door and Miss Eleanor turned to face the man who had been lately occupying her thoughts a good deal of her waking hours. Giving no indication that he knew anything to be amiss in Miss Eleanor's demeanor Doctor Cross inclined his head regally. "Thank you Mrs. Butler."**

**Miss Eleanor smiled warmly; she wanted to keep Doctor Cross a moment longer, as though she could somehow penetrate his mental amour to find her way inside his mind. Just what were his intentions toward Rosemary, she wondered, did he even have any at all? "Your most welcome Doctor Cross, I'd like to thank you for your interest in Scarlett. It's very rare to find a doctor who pays such personal attention to a patient's recovery."**

**His face never changed save for the tightening of the muscles near his lips. Even then it was a face that gave nothing away to the causal observer. "Scarlett's an extraordinary woman," he remarked neutrally**

**"That's why Rhett married her," agreed Miss Eleanor pointedly. Though he was obviously focusing his attentions on Rosemary there was no doubt in Miss Eleanor's mind that he had some sort of interest in Scarlett. Scarlett was in no way available. It seemed best to remind him of just who Scarlett was married to. **

**For a split second the cool mask of polite civility slipped and Miss Eleanor caught a glimpse of another man. One who was ruthless and calculating; a man who would not stop till he succeeded, no matter what or who was in his way. Miss Eleanor tried to meet his cold stare with her own searching gaze but she found that she couldn't. His eyes were without any hint of feeling or genuine emotion, only a cold sort of amusement. Steeling herself Miss Eleanor forced herself to look once more into the gorgon's face but whatever had been allowed to show for one split second had vanished. There before her was only Doctor Cross, emanate physician, her daughter's would be suitor.**

**If she was the sort of person to doubt her own eyes she would easily be able to dismiss what she had seen in his eyes as a foolish flight of fancy, but she knew. As surely as she knew her own name she knew there was far more to Doctor Cross then she had ever seen previously. And what was there was not the noble and selfless healer but something in decay, something rotten. **

**Doctor Cross replied to her early comment with a tight smile that did nothing to alleviate Miss Eleanor's fears. "You son is indeed a lucky man. I hope he realizes that."**

**The words caught in her throat as she met his courteous, but empty gaze. "I'm sure he does," she whispered, her voice straining slightly in an effort to be heard.**

**Doctor Cross didn't reply, he only nodded politely before knocking loudly on Scarlett's bedroom door. After hearing Rhett call out "Come on," Miss Eleanor walked sedately down the hall, but though her steps were unrushed she had the distinct feeling she was fleeing something unwholesome. **

**Or someone.**


	49. Revelations

Scarlett and Rhett were so completely lost in the grips of the happy normalcy of domestic bliss neither of them heard a single word of the exchange that was taking place between Miss Eleanor and Doctor Cross on the other side of the bedroom door. The happness that had eluded them for so long was all consuming, building a private world that only they could share.

Scarlett took his larger hand in hers and toyed absently with his wedding band. She had been surprised when she had arrived in Charleston to find him still wearing his wedding band. With the way he had claimed to feel about her then she wouldn't have been surprised if he had left off wearing his ring although. But it had been there, encircling his left ring finger just as it always had. She sighed gently. Had he kept wearing it because he hadn't stopped loving her? Or had it remained on his finger because to discard it would have incited wide spread speculation and gossip?

Standing above her Rhett bent at the waist to lightly kiss the crown of her head, softly inhaling the fragrance of her hair. Scarlett had been adamant about Pansy using a pitcher and basin to wash her hair every other day while she had been confined to bed rest. It must have been difficult to facilitate but somehow between the two of them Scarlett and Penny had managed.

He drank her in with his eyes, even as she continues to toy with his hand completely unaware of his undivided attention. She looked like a coy adolescent in so many ways, with her thick dark hair tied back with a slick satin ribbon and attired in a cream colored nightdress. She was still so young and he knew his brother was not completely wrong with his taunts of Rhett's child bride. Compared to him she had been a child when he married her, in retrospect he was amazed at how unfair his expectations had really been. How could he expect a twenty three year old to be as world weary as a forty year old? How could he expect her to know his heart when she did not yet know her own?

She had been in the midst of finding her place in the world when he had swept in and pushed her into a place, that of his wife. Would things have been different if he had courted her first instead of using seduction and strong-arm tactics to secure her consent to his proposal?

She could feel his searching intent gaze and before he could conceal it she tilted her head back to catch him in the act…except he didn't allow his aloof mask to slip back into it's long accustomed place. She could see how content he was, how peace had erased the hard angry look that she had grown so used to over the last few years. It was the difference between light and dark, night and day. He was happy, really and truly happy. She had made him happy and to know that her love had such a deep impact on his life raised her spirits to new, previously unknown heights.

"When you came back to Charleston, after you…" she trailed off before finding the courage to continue. "When we weren't together, you continued to wear your wedding ring?"

He looked at her curiously, "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I was married," he stated simply. From the moment she had placed his ring on his finger he had never taken it off. To take it off would be the final admission of defeat, of loss. He had been tempted to take it off, dozens of time, really hundreds of times, but something had stopped him...hope.

"That's the only reason?" Her face was soft and wondering, waiting for a reply. His heart ached at how unfair life had really been for Scarlett. She had never really had a moment's peace from the time she had been what sixteen, seventeen? The truth about his ring was really that simple, she had put it on his finger and no matter what he felt for her he couldn't take it off. In his will, which he had had revised upon his return to Charleston, he had made several stipulations about his funeral and burial arrangements. He had wanted to be interred next to Bonnie in Atlanta. He had asked that his mother or sister personally contact Scarlett to inform her so she wouldn't hear of his passing through idle gossip. He had also stated plainly, in no uncertain terms that he wanted to be buried wearing his wedding ring, the wedding ring that Scarlett had placed on his finger one afternoon when he thought he had finally won her.

"No, that wasn't the only reason."

At the Landing, when he had been drinking continuously to try and forget her he had finally come to realize that he couldn't. Many, many times he had recalled the way she had looked when she had slid the ring onto his finger. His ring was the twin to her own. In a moment of euphoria and high hopes he had bought them identical rings while in England. Hers was a slim band while his was broader, but the cross hatching and the inscriptions were the same.

He loved her; he had been a fool to leave her in Atlanta.

Scarlett laid her hand on his arm bring his attention back to her. "Did you ever really stop loving me?"

"No. I can honestly say that I have loved you against my better judgment. I have loved you in spite of my best efforts. I have tried to forget you, to exercise you from my heart and mind, but I have never been successful. I've never really stopped loving you, though I have wanted to."

"I'm glad," she replied

"So am I." With a wicked smile he asked. "Tell me, what does it say on the inside of your wedding band?"

"I've no idea."

He threw back his head and laughed. "You little minx, you could describe your engagement ring in minute detail but you mean to tell me you've never looked at the inside of your wedding ring to see if your husband put some sort of loving sentiment inside?"

Her lips pursed and she rolled her eyes at his teasing. "I've never taken it off. You might have mentioned to me that you'd had my ring engraved, I would have looked."

He grinned, pleased at her admission. "Well? Perhaps you might take a moment out of your busy schedule to look"

She smiled and with a little tug, slid off her wedding band. Tilting it she read aloud the flowing script running around the interior of her ring. "It says, Nemo nisi mors." She laughed with pleasure; "You had them put it in English as well... Nothing except death will part us." She offered her ring to him and with a gentleness that moved her to near tears he slid the golden circle back onto her finger. "Oh Rhett."

He lifted her hand to his lips and lovingly he kissed her palm before speaking. "I was wrong to leave you in Atlanta. I have no excuse to offer except that when you called me a coward the other night you were entirely correct. I could have stayed and given you a chance to show me you were in earnest when you told me you loved me. But I fled because I couldn't allow myself to acknowledge that my love for you wasn't dead. Do you know what it is to fight yourself?"

Her expression grave, she nodded before answering what had partly been a hypothetical question. "Yes. I've been fighting myself since you offered a hundred and fifty dollars to dance with me."

"In gold."

"In gold," she echoed with a smile. "Was I worth it?" she asked coquettishly.

"Later, when you and I can be alone without anyone interrupting us I fully intend on showing you just how much I value you."

"Rhett," she gasped in mock shock at the implication of his words. "You do talk scandalous."

"In deference to your current state I will try and behave. Ella and Wade do seem to be glad to be glad to be here in Charleston, don't they?"

"Of course they are glad. Ella especially. I never thought that she'd miss me so much."

"She loves you a great deal Scarlett. So does Wade."

It felt so right to her to have a conversation about their children with Rhett. This was what had been missing from her life during the last few years, she had know deep down that something had disappeared from her day to day existence but she hadn't been able to pinpoint what had changed.

**No, that was a lie, she knew it was and though she might lie to other people she had never indulged in the luxury of lying to herself. Her life and Rhett's her mind added in a guilty whisper, had changed the when she'd spoken the words "Rhett, I've decided that I don't want any more children."**

"And I love them, but I've made so many mistakes. I have a lot to make up for."

Scarlett's brows drew together as her expression hardened. Her face was now devoid of the softness that Rhett's earlier caresses had wrought. Her voice was rigid and cold as she spoke in a low careful voice that left no room for misinterpretation of her future intentions. "My sister and I have a great deal to discuss the next time we see one another."

"That is entirely between you and Suellen," Rhett said before continuing with a smirk, "I wouldn't mind being a fly on the wall for that conversation, I will admit."

"Why Rhett Butler, weren't you the one who told my eavesdroppers hear the most interesting things?"

"Does that sound like something I'd say?"

"Hmm, in does indeed. Don't worry I seriously doubt you'll miss a word of what is said between myself and Suellen, despite being behind closed doors."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because unless you suddenly find yourself stone cold deaf I imagine they'll hear me over at Lovejoy."

"You're going to raise your voice in anger. You, the ever demure Scarlett O'Hara Butler, gently breed southern lady? No I shouldn't believe it till I see it."

She giggled. "You may not see it, but believe me when I say, you'll hear it."

"You could choose to forgive and forget."

Her lips drew into a tight line before they curved upwards in what could almost be considered a smile, but if it was a smile then it was a smile completely without mirth. "I could also choose to bludgeon my evil, immoral sister with the nearest blunt object, but in the interest of family unity I will just have to be content with hollering at her till I go hoarse."

"What ever pleases you darling," he replied.

"You please me," she murmured gently.

His touch was light as he cupped her face in his large hands. She smiled; her exquisite face was so radiant with joy that he reverently studied it for a minute before moving forward to meet her waiting lips with his. Just as she was about to reach up and draw his still closer a thumping knock shook her bedroom door slightly.

"Medice, cura te ipsum!" muttered Rhett angrily.

"That sounds like a threat, and I don't even speak Latin," teased Scarlett playfully.

He translated his earlier utterance for her, "It means, physician, heal thyself!"

"You really don't like him do you?" she asked.

"Not particularly, I won't be sorry to be rid of his seemingly constant presence when you no longer need constant medical attention."

"I'm sorry Rhett."

"It isn't your fault. Rosemary ignored my very clear request for Doctor Bastin. Sometimes I wonder…"

The knocking sounded again and Rhett grimaced even as he called out "Come in."


	50. What dreams may come

_for Ladyvivien and Brandy, because they listen_

**Doctor Cross strode confidently into the room. He favored Scarlett with one of his rare smiles and then directed a curt nod in Rhett's general direction before he begun to speak. "Scarlett, Mr. Butler, I apologize for dropping by so unexpectedly but as I told Mrs. Butler when I arrived I have a speaking engagement as well as two practical demonstrations at The Medical College. I won't be keeping office hours for the next few days so I wanted to drop by and speak to Scarlett for a moment." **

"**That's kind of you," Scarlett said, all the while praying that he wouldn't mention his earlier visit to her room. Of course she was grateful for his nearly perfect timing earlier that morning but for the time being she just wanted to be happy, if only for a little while. Once Rhett knew what Ross had done there was no telling how he'd respond. One thing was for certain he would be angry with his once again erring brother and that would only lead to further unpleasantness within the Butler family.**

"**I'm simply here to evaluate your progress. You seem to be doing very well Scarlett, however; in case of an emergency I am reachable through the main offices at Roper Hospital. Roper is the Medical College's primary teaching hospital. If you need me just have your husband send for me and I will come straightway."**

"**Thank you Doctor Cross," replied Rhett curtly, "I'll bear that in mind. You'll show yourself out?" Without waiting for a response he added "Good afternoon."**

**Doctor Cross continued on, smoothly ignoring Rhett's dismissal. "Mr. Butler, I had actually stopped by earlier to see if you were at home. I had hoped to speak with you for a moment, if it's convenient might I speak to you now?"**

"**What about," asked Rhett blandly?**

**Scarlett's eyes met Doctor Cross's apprehensively. She had to force herself to keep silent, hoping that Doctor Cross would honor his earlier promise not to tell Rhett about his encounter with Ross. That was something she wanted to discuss with Rhett on her own terms. But if not Ross then what could he want with Rhett, her stomach clenched suddenly in terror, unless he wanted to speak to Rhett about Rosemary? Could that be it? Was he about to make his intentions toward Rosemary known? That would be ten times worse than the inevitable Ross conversation that she knew they would have to have as some point. Silently she attempted to plead with Doctor Cross with her expressive emerald eyes. He gave a slight barely noticeable shake of his head, once to the left, then to the right. **

**No.**

"**Please", she moaned faintly.**

"**Scarlett, did you say something," inquired Doctor Cross compassionately, his expression was serene but his eyes glowed with a queer hungry light. So completely was Scarlett caught in the torments of the damned that she did not notice the eager anticipation that he wore like a cloak. **

**Her nervous, fluttering stomach and the roaring of the ocean in her ears consumed her attention. Why was life so complicated, why could nothing ever be simple? She only wanted to cup her face in her hands and sob piteously, but years of hiding her insecurities and masking her turbulent true self had served to make her strong; she could face anything if she was called on to do so. If Doctor Cross had reneged on his promise and turned from John to Judas in the space of a few hours she could face that too.**

"**No. I'm sorry to interrupt, please continue Doctor Cross." Her face was pale and her eyes glowed even as she steeled herself for Doctor Cross's revelation. Whatever it might be.**

**Jason Cross smiled at her pleasantly. His smile did not promise discretion nor did it revel the topic that he wished to address. Inside he reveled in her, being in her presence was intoxicating to his senses, like a good Bordeaux or superior champagne. She tempted his very being till he had begun to dream of her, several times since he had begun to treat her he had woken with the taste of her lips on his, the sensation of running his hands down her smooth back, drawing her closer even as he elicited cries of ecstasy from her wine red lips. Had Butler ever brought her to such peaks of desire? Jason Cross thought not from the description Rosemary had given him as to the state of her brother's marriage...and more importantly his abscence from his wife's bed. Jason suspected that the dutiful husband act that Rhett Butler was currently putting on was just that, an act meant to portray himself as the devoted loving husband.**

**He tried to exercise her from his thoughts and that effort had only served to remove her from his waking mind. At night in his lonely bachelor's bed she haunted him. It had reached the point where some nights he wanted to resist sleep to escape the dreams his mind spun. One night he had fled his bedroom to read in his library. He had opened the first volume that his hand had found. To his disgust it was Shakespear's tragedy Hamlet. A part of him wanted to hurl the play across the room, but instead he paged through the play till he found the lines he was looking for…**

**_To sleep: perchance to dream: ah, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come. _And come they did, dreams in which they danced and others in which they spoke softly with their heads inclined toward one another. In dreams they would build a private world all their own and upon waking he would sometimes long to find her next to him. He would never betray his inner longing through word or deed, she was married, he knew that and yet he wanted only to hear her say his name in her pert Georgian accent. She was so beautiful, so desirable, and so achingly unattainable. **

**He had watched her when he had announced that he had been by earlier to see Rhett Butler. Scarlett's eyes had widened even as her lips had parted hesitantly. He had heard her whisper the word, "Please". Her reliance on his ability to keep his word was to be stored away for later examination, to be taken out and enjoyed during the sleepless nights that plagued him now.**

**She was so visibly terrified that he was honestly surprised that Rhett Butler hadn't noticed his wife's state of distress. But he had noticed. He noticed everything about her no matter how insignificant. He couldn't resist baiting her one last time knowing full well that he would never betray her confidence.**

"**About Scarlett." There, he thought triumphantly, her eyes shut and she swayed gently as though she would swoon. "And her confinement." It was gratifying to watch her eyes open as she sucked in quickly a gasp of air to rejuvenate herself. "She has been progressing nicely, in fact I believe she could stand an hour or so out of bed in the morning and perhaps two hours in the afternoon. That is if the weather remains fine for the rest of the week." **

**They both spoke at the same time. Scarlett's voice was jubilant as she exclaimed, "May I get up now?" Rhett shook his head, speaking over her. "You're sure? I recall your concerns earlier in the week about Scarlett and her need for bed rest. What's changed?"**

**It was Rhett's question that Doctor Cross chose to address first, "Scarlett is remarkably resilient. I admit that I underestimated her. Clearly she's no ****mignon**** to be treated with kid gloves. I see no reason why she can't take breakfast and lunch or perhaps tea if she'd rather on the piazza."**

"**That's wonderful," Scarlett ****blithe****ly remarked. "I've been going mad with boredom. I'm just ill suited for staying in bed all day." She caught Rhett's sleeve in her hand and tugged it excitedly. "Rhett, will you have Miss Eleanor ask Mango to have a table and chairs brought up to the piazza? I'll take tea outside this afternoon with the children. Oh," she exclaimed joyfully, "but first will you send Penny up, I'll have to tell Penny I want a bath…"**

"**Scarlett," warned Doctor Cross, "Do not overdo things. You are still weak, physically. I'll not deny that your cold seems to be all but gone. Your color is also good and before I leave I'll take your temperature but this is not ****carte blanche**** to do as you like. Use good judgment and see that you don't overdue things. Try not to overextend yourself. On Friday, after the conference is over I'll stop by to see you. We can discuss you getting out of bed and on your feet. If I think you are capable, you may practice with a walking stick starting Monday. If everything goes according to my expectations you may completely put aside bed rest on, let's say Thursday the 6th of March. From there so long as you don't push yourself too hard I expect you to make a full recovery by June or possibly July at the absolute latest."**

**After taking her temperature and cautioning her one last time against overdoing things Rhett accompanied Doctor Cross downstairs leaving Scarlett to wait for Penny to help her bathe and put on something presentable for the first time since the boat capsized on the 15th.**

**She grinned happily once both men had left. It was funny how something so mundane as having tea on the balcony could take on such importance when one had been denied the experience for what seemed like a dog's age. That thought only served to remind her about Toby and her children. Wade would be ecstatic, he loved animals especially dogs. Ella on the other hand was nervous around animals but Toby was so bright and friendly that she was sure he'd win her over in no time.**

**Sliding her wedding ring from her finger for only the second time since she'd been married Scarlett read the inscription again, "Nothing except death will part us," she murmured softly.**

"**That's a lovely sentiment."**

**She looked up and smiled, "Do you think so?"**

**Longing in the doorway Rhett smiled, his dark face handsome and free of that jaded, bored look that he often wore when they would discuss thoughts and feelings. "When it's the truth it's the most beautiful sentiment in the world." He studied her for a long moment; his eyes were piercing, deep and dark like the world just past the illuminating gleam of candlelight. His voice was nearly a groan when he voiced the words that had haunted him since he'd sat down next to her bed and taken her hand in his at the fort. "How could I have ever thought that I could turn away from you?"**

"**Because I made it so easy. Rhett," her voice was low and faintly sad, "I don't think I'll ever be able to tell you how sorry…"**

**Rhett crossed the room swiftly and before she could say another word he had lifted her from the bed, cradling her in his arms. Though he moved with exaggerated care he still managed to make her more than aware of the present state of his mind. He kissed her hungrily, his lips were insistent drawing an immediate response from her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging tightly to him as though he were the only thing of substance in her world. Sliding his lips down her chin he moved down her throat before stopping just over her throbbing pulse.**

**Pulling his lips away he laughed softly at the rapid fluttering beat just beneath her skin. "Say you love me Scarlett," he demeaned imperiously.**

**She whispered softly, "I do."**

**He shook his head. "Say the words, I'll never tire of hearing you say those three words."**

**She ran her fingers through his crisp black hair. "I love you, I will till the day I die. I'll never love anyone else the way I love you. You make me so happy…"**

**He kissed her again, his mouth opened over hers and she welcomed him joyously, without reluctance or the slightest hesitation. This was no ravishment meant to wear down her resistance; this was the passionate embrace of a man who had waited a lifetime for the love he had finally claimed as his and his alone.**


	51. It happened one night

Dani is my angel

**Penny poured warm water over Scarlett's head to wash the remaining soapsuds from her long ebony locks. It felt wonderful to be sitting in a steaming hot tub filled with scented water in the spacious bathroom that Rhett had had installed in his mother's house the year before just after he had arrived in Charleston.**

**Penny gently squeezed the excess water from Scarlett's hair. So far as Scarlett was concerned Penny was the best ladies maid she had ever had, furthermore, Mammy would have approved whole heartedly of the girl. Perhaps it had been a blessing that poor Pansy had been called away. Rhett had magnanimously sent the girl wages for the next three months and a letter of reference as Scarlett had no further need of her. Pansy was capable enough and with three months wages she'd have ample time to find herself another position. The position of Scarlett's maid was Penny's for as long as she wished to occupy it. **

"**Miss Scarlett, I'm done, would you like me to stay till you're ready to come out of the bath?" asked Penny as she placed the pitcher she had just used to rinse Scarlett's hair off back onto the marble topped table at the beneath the window. Everything the girl did was neat and precise; no half finished tasks like Pansy would leave before starting a new task. Certainly she finished a task as soon as it was assigned, never dilly-dallying over it as Prissy so often had. **

**In many small and varied ways Scarlett felt as though the ever competent, endlessly calming influence of Mammy had re-appeared in her life once again in the body of this young woman. She anticipated Scarlett's needs before she herself could so much as speak. She had learned to gauge Scarlett's various humors in the short time she had been in Scarlett's employ. She never hovered but rather was simply there when needed. **

**When the children had arrived earlier in the day Penny had immediately taken charge of them according to Miss Eleanor. Penny had been the one to settle them into their rooms and tell them about all the marvelous things there were to see and do in Charleston. Miss Eleanor had also commented on the fact that Ella seemed to take to Penny mere seconds after meeting her. Scarlett was pleased with Carlen's niece and hoped that the girl was content in her current position.**

"**Miss Scarlett? Are you alright?" Penny's words were polite but there was a hint of amusement in her voice, almost as though she could tell that Scarlett had been wrapped deep within her own mind.**

"**Hmm," she smiled, trying her best not to burst out laughing at the idea of being caught daydreaming, Mammy had always known. It seemed that Penny was equally adept at catching Scarlett out. **

"**I'm fine, thank you Penny. I'd just like to soak for a little while longer. Mr. Butler will be up in a shortly to help me get out. Would you go and make sure Ella's changed into a clean frock. I don't want to see her in the dress she arrived in. I'd like to see her in something, anything, that doesn't look as though it's a hundred years old."**

**Penny nodded, her lips slightly pursed as though she were running though a mental inventory of every frock in Ella's closet. Finally she brightened slightly. "There was a real nice brown and pink dress that I hung up."**

**Scarlett closed her eyes and sunk deeper into the copper lined tub. She knew precisely the dress Penny was referring to. She wasn't wrong it was a lovely dress. It was also nearly a year old so it was bound to be short on Ella who, though she hadn't had the growth spurt Wade had experienced, had grown at least two inches. **

**Her damn greedy sow of a sister must have pocketed every dime Scarlett had sent to her for Wade and Ella's needs. She had been overly generous thinking that by giving her far more money than was necessary to fed and clothe two children Suellen could skim off the top but still keep Wade and Ella appropriately attired. It was now apparent that she had underestimated her sister's mean spirited nature. **

"**Penny, run downstairs and find Miss Eleanor. Ask her if she still has any of that ecru lace that she tatted for my Saint Cecilia gown. If she does I would like you to sew it on to the hem of Ella's brown and pink dress. Also the cuffs, those are bound to be a little short too."**

"**What if she doesn't have any Miss Scarlett?"**

"**If she doesn't then you may take the lace off my Saint Cecilia dress. It's a burgundy velvet ball gown. I think Pansy wrapped it in brown paper and it's in one of the trunks in my dressing room. Try the largest one first, I think it may be in there."**

"**Yes ma'am." Pansy left the room pulling the door closed behind her. Finally she was alone. It was nice to be alone to soak in the bathtub in Miss Eleanor's house. It had been a pleasant surprise to find a bath room in Miss Eleanor's house. Scarlett had been more than eager to leave the Peachtree Street house with it's painful memories, but she had been slightly depressed at the thought of having to make do once more with a hip bath at Miss Eleanor's house.**

**It had taken her nearly all of her willpower to seize control over the urge to burst into peals of laughter when Miss Eleanor had given her the initial tour of the house on the Battery. Even now, nearly four months after her arrival in Charleston the bathroom that Rhett had commissioned for his mother's house was still a source of continued amusement for Scarlett. Rhett had claimed repeatedly that he had disliked every aspect of the house he had built for her in Atlanta. Clearly that dislike hadn't applied to the bath room that had been built as a part of the master suite of the house. **

**It had cost a fortune at the time of the house's construction but Scarlett had been so intrigued by the thought of having a room designated just for bathing that she had cautiously approached Rhett about it. He had been incredibly generous when it came to the expenses for the house but the price for that one room had given her pause. She had asked him to come and meet with the builder so that he could give his decision. But he had declined, saying that if a bath room would please her then it pleased him. She had been over the moon to tell the architect to revise the plans to include a bath room. The builder, Harvey Grundy, had assured her that it was a very near duplicate of the one Queen Victoria herself had.**

**The bathroom at Miss Eleanor's was more sedate then the one in house in Atlanta but there was one very obvious similarity, the large copper tub in Miss Eleanor's bath room was the identical twin to the one in the master bedroom of the Peachtree Street house.**

**When Miss Eleanor had first shown her the room Scarlett had to fight to subdue laughter. The bath room had been an expense that Rhett had jokingly chided her over after the fact. He had called it an extravagantly vulgar display of wealth. Yet he had no problems whatsoever utilizing it. Even after they had stopped sharing a bedroom he would continue to bathe in the enormous bathtub. He had obviously enjoyed the length of the tub because, despite his great height, it allowed him to recline comfortably. **

**Rosemary had told her that when the builders had come they had to reinforce the floor beneath the bath room to bear the weight. The tub itself was encased in mahogany and lined with copper. It measured 7' x 4', and weighed nearly one ton. The fittings connected to two pipes running from the attic tank. One pipe carried cold water; the other was a hot water pipe that coiled down the chimney. The water heated as it passed through the coil, it was ingenious and far more up to date then the bath room in Atlanta.**

**She still blushed to the very roots of her hair whenever she recalled Rhett's insistence on "christening" the bath tub when they'd first moved in to the Peachtree street house. They had been all alone that first night in the mansion. Rhett had been particularly charming that night. They had a leisurely dinner at the National before going to the new house to privately tour it, just the two of them.**

_**After they had investigated the first floor they had made their way up the grand staircase to the gallery hallway. He had asked, "Where shall we begin the tour Mrs. Butler? **_

_**She had immediately replied "The Nursery. The murals should be done by now. It needs to be perfect. I want Wade and Ella to feel like they finally have a home of their own. It will be the first time we've ever lived anywhere that wasn't someone else's house." **_

**She had missed it at the time, but now she could just recall the soft look in his eyes when she had told him that she needed to personally inspect the nursery first thing. He had approved of her sentiments regarding the nursery, she knew that finally. Looking back, though he teased her mercilessly over how much money she had spent on decorating the house, he never once mentioned just how expensive the artist who had painted the murals in the nursery had been.**

**Her eyes slowly closed as she luxuriated in the water. The events of that particular evening were burnt into her mind like a brand. Even if she lived to be a hundred she could never forget, would never allow herself to forget what had happened that night, their first night in their new home…**

_**She had been in the nursery admiring the murals that the artist from Newport had painted. They were scenes from the fairy story book that her pa had read to her and her sisters when they were children. The artist had done a flawless job in rendering the lush green hills of the Irish countryside. She turned to ask Rhett's opinion but he had disappeared from her side. Thinking he'd only be a minute she continued to admire the completed nursery, but after several minutes had passed without his return Scarlett opened the door to the hallway and called his name. **_

_**Rhett emerged from the Master Suite with a self-satisfied smirk. "Here I am my pet."**_

"_**I thought you'd vanished into thin air," she chastised with a smile.**_

"_**Perish the thought my pet. I was just admiring our bedroom. It's truly," he paused theatrically, "unique."**_

_**She frowned as she closed the nursery door. "You don't like it?"**_

_**He met her halfway down the hallway, his footsteps muffled by the lush crimson carpet. Glancing around the hallway with it's red flocked wallpaper he shrugged nonchalantly. "It's a little much."**_

_**She tossed her hair before striding past him. "Fiddle dee dee Rhett Butler. It's the most beautiful bedroom I've ever seen. I only wish it were polite to show it off when I have my crush. I'll just bet everyone of those old peahens would turn green."**_

_**Rhett laughed loudly. "I simply think that purple is just a little much for the wall paint."**_

_**She pivoted swiftly to face him. "Purple? Oh no, that's not right at all. Who on earth told them to paint the master suite purple," she cried, outraged.**_

_**Scarlett all but flew to the door of their bedroom, flinging the door open so that she could try to decide what to do about the mistake the builders had made. If the painters had to re-do the master suite it would mean at least another week at the National. Of all the careless mistakes, she thought fiercely. **_

_**For a moment she was speechless as she stood in the doorway of the Master Suite. There were what seemed to be a hundred candles illuminating the room. Next to the bed was two bottles of champagne chilling in a heavy silver bucket. On the bedside table two crystal champagne flutes twinkled in the glow of the candlelight.**_

_**She wanted to question his motives, surely this was a lover like gesture, but he would make so sarcastic reply and that would only lead to a quarrel and she could see that no matter what Rhett hoped to gain he had obviously gone to a great deal of trouble.**_

"_**What is all of this?" she asked softly.**_

"_**I've never owned a home before so I wanted to make our first night in our new home special," he said in a strange voice…expectant and a little cautious as though he wished to reveal something to her through his gesture.**_

_**If she didn't know better she would think that he was eagerly anticipating her response to his grand gesture. Could it be that he cared for her more than she suspected? After all he had been so kind to her since they married. They had had several spats and the one vicious quarrel in New Orleans but for the greater part of their new marriage Rhett had spoiled her; indulging her every whim, encouraging her reckless side and applauding her less than ladylike behavior. He held her at night when bad dreams tore her from slumber. He had completely bankrolled their new house, she hadn't had to touch so much as a penny of her money since the day she had said, "I do." **_

_**When everything was said and done, Scarlett didn't regret her decision to become Mrs. Rhett Butler. It was strange to be addressed by her new surname, but at times it also caused a pleasant shiver to run through her. Hearing his name sometimes reminded her of one of the most interesting aspects of being married to Rhett. The things that he did to her in the privacy of their hotel room caused her to blush when she recalled them. And the fevered words he whispered in her ear as he moved above her in the darkness, though there were several times when they had had relations during the daylight hours. Those thoughts made her lips curl into a smile of deep satisfaction. Which only cause her to blush all the more. It was very vexing…and exhilarating. **_

_**She ventured past the threshold to the middle of the room, admiring the gorgeous arrangement of roses on the table near the chaise by the fireplace. He was behind her; she could sense it without even turning around.**_

"_**Aren't we going back to the hotel?" she asked curiously.**_

"_**Not tonight. I thought we might spend the night here, just the two of us."**_

_**She could feel the warmth of his body against her back seconds before Rhett wrapped his muscular arms around her tiny waist and drew her close. "No objections I hope?"**_

"_**No. But isn't the carriage is waiting?"**_

_**He kissed the nape of her neck. She shivered lightly at the feel on his lips on her sensitive skin.**_

"_**No, I told Abraham that we would be staying the night. He'll be back in the morning."**_

"_**How will I get out of my clothes?" The words were past her lips before she could stop herself. She bit her lip and prayed that she would not betray her embarrassment at her hasty words with a treacherous blush, but Rhett didn't tease her with her slip of the tongue. Instead he brushed his lips against her ear before nipping the lobe gently between his straight white teeth.**_

"_**I might be able to be of some assistance." He then lowered his lips to her jaw line before bending her back slightly over his forearm. He kissed the front of her throat murmuring, "Have I ever mentioned that I like when you wear your hair up?"**_

"_**Did you, I can't recall," she whispered distracted by the sensation of his mustache against her skin.**_

"_**I do indeed, it allows me to do this," he replied as he kissed the side of her neck while, with one hand he undid the dozens of small pearl buttons that ran down the back of her evening dress. He pushed the bodice down further exposing the tops of her breasts.**_

**_He untied the laces of her corset and then the hooks holding her skirts to her bodice. Finally after several minutes of combined effort and tantalizing teasing she stood before Rhett in her French styled silk chemise and clocked stockings held up by garters tied just above her knees._ **

_**Though he had seen her dozens of times since their marriage in such scanty attire Rhett couldn't hold back the swift intake of breath and the appreciative look in his eyes. He lifted her into his arms and crossed the room in several long strides bringing her to the bed. Their bed. With great care he placed her on its edge before kneeling before her. He pushed her chemise up past her knees so he could untie her garters. Then he leaned forward and begun to kiss the skin that was exposed as he rolled each stocking down her trim legs and well shaped calves.**_

"_**Are you happy?" he asked suddenly, his voice quiet with a faint lingering note of something that she couldn't identify.**_

_**In their new home, with his hot breath against her knee, she couldn't say no. She didn't want to say no. She only wanted to feel his lips on hers and hear the words he franticly murmured in her ear just before his excitement reached its peak. He would whisper how beautiful she was and how he had never wanted any other woman as much as he had wanted her. But never did he claim to love her, even if the midst of marital relations when it would have been natural to say such a thing even if he didn't mean it.**_

"_**Scarlett?"**_

"_**Yes," she whispered finally, "I'm very happy. You've treated me like a queen and you are so good to my children, how could I not be happy?"**_

_**He laughed, looking like a man ten years his junior as he stood up and extended his hand to her. She took it without hesitation. "Didn't I tell you marriage could be fun?" he asked as he kissed the palm of her hand.**_

"_**I seem to remember you saying something like that," she replied with a small smile.**_

_**He kissed her then and helpless to fight the waves of desire his kisses ignited within her she kissed him back, molding her chemise clad form to his still dressed body.**_

_**He broke away, his eyes dark and filled with desire. She knew he didn't love her, but he wanted her. Rhett had at the very least confessed that he had wanted her so badly that he would surrender his long held bachelorhood to be her husband. It made her feel sensual and more than a little special to be so desirable to Rhett Butler.**_

"_**Wait for me here, just for a moment."**_

_**She nodded. "Where are you going?"**_

"_**It's a surprise."**_

"_**Another one?"**_

_**He only smiled mysteriously and walked into the bath room. Before she could wonder what he was about he reemerged and smiling a grin heavy with triumph he once more extended his hand to her.**_

"_**Rhett?" she questioned apprehensively.**_

"_**Do you trust me?"**_

_**She shook her head. "Not a bit."**_

"_**I mean when it's just the two of us, alone like this."**_

_**She regarded him with wary cat eyes for a minute before licking her lips nervously. "I think so."**_

"_**Have I ever done anything to you thus far that's repulsed you or kept you up at night wondering what you had done to deserve something so distasteful?"**_

"_**No." She shook her head for added emphasis. "You've been gentle and patient and I…I trust you." She took his offered hand and allowed him to lead her into the bath room suite.**_

**_Later as she laid drowsy in his_ _arms, her hair still slightly damp she sighed deeply._**

_"_**_What is it?" he asked distantly._ **

"_**I hope that it will always be this way between us."**_

_**He turned her to face him. "Like how sweetheart."**_

_**Confusion settled over her and she sighed again. "I can't say exactly. I just like the way things are between us…"she trailed off suddenly shy.**_

"**_Sweetheart, why worry about how the future is going to be, live in the here and now. Now finds you with a wealthy husband, a large if overly ornate house, and the freedom to do as you like without the worry of husbandly disapproval. If you so chose you can become the great society lady you once told me you yearned to be. Although," he added, his eyes gleaming wickedly, "That was under the influence of a large quantity of what I suspect_ _was the contents of Miss Pitty's swoon bottle so if you'd like to reconsider that aspiration I won't think any less of you for reneging." _**

"_**Are you happy Rhett?" she asked suddenly curious. But under her questioning gaze his face became bland, concealing the truth of his thoughts.**_

"_**Why pet, you surprise me. You sound as though you care."**_

_**She blushed, grateful for the concealment the dimness of the room offered. "You're my husband, why shouldn't I care," she replied archly.**_

_**He didn't answer her, instead he drew her to him and slanted his lips over hers, claiming them as his and his alone. **_

**He never did answer her question she thought as she closed her eyes and allowed the water to give her body a buoyancy and lightness that she would lose the instant she left the bath tub. Her body the last week had felt so bulky and unwieldy; completely out of her control.**

"**You look very pensive."**

**She gasped and sat up in the water, cupping her hands over her bare breasts in an attempt at concealing her bare body from his hungry, appreciative gaze.**

"**Rhett, you startled me."**

"**My apologies. I did knock, but when you didn't reply I began to worry so I thought I would just check on you. Is there anything you need?"**

**Her lips flattened into a prim line. Did he remember that first night in the bath room of the Peachtree Street house? She was curious if he remembered it in the same vivid detail she did. Perhaps he didn't, after all surely he'd spent other nights just as if not more passionate than what had transpired between them that night.**

**Still, it wouldn't hurt to ask…**


	52. Three Weddings and a Funeral

"Hmm," she murmured thoughtfully, "I do need my hair rinsed again. I don't think Penny got all of the soap out of my hair. There's a pitcher over there," she gestured with her left hand using her right hand and arm to continue to conceal her breasts. The still soapy water only afforded occasional glimpses of her bare flesh. "If you'd just pour a few pitchers of water over my hair, just to rinse any leftover soap out, that would be very helpful…that is of course, if you aren't too busy?"

Their eyes met, his amused at her blatant invitation and hers aglow with desire and recollections of just how good things were between them in the early days of their marriage. Slowly the corners of his mouth turned up and he bent from the waist, bowing to her. "You wish is my command Mrs. Butler. I live to serve."

"Since when?" she replied softly.

Rhett walked to the door sliding the bolt on the bathroom door. He turned and studied her till she flushed a delicate shade of pink under his smoldering black eyes. With one raised black brow and a small smirk he met her wide green eyes and held her gaze as he brought one wrist up and undid the onyx stud cufflink that held his shirt cuff closed. Deliberately, never taking his eyes from hers, he placed the cuff link on the carved rosewood table. The second cuff link followed. His vest soon followed, hung carefully on one of the gleaming brass hooks affixed to the wall over the table.

"Since now."

With a devilish smile he rolled his shirtsleeves up till they were above his elbows. His muscular forearms with their crinkled, curling, wiry black hairs held her attention. They were so tan and heavy with muscle. She knew the strength that they held, but she also knew they were equally capable of offering comfort and support.

He came to the side of the tub and sank to his knees. "I love you Scarlett Butler."

Her eyes tingled with the salt of unshed tears and her throat constricted at his words. They were not flowery or poetic but they were exactly what she needed to hear. He had told her that he loved her repeatedly in the last few days but she could not hear those three words enough, not from him. He was the surprise of a lifetime, her love and heart. He had been in her life in some form or fashion since she was a sixteen-year-old girl and she had always know that they fit one another but never the reason why.

It had been love; she had loved him for years without knowing it. She had loved him the night he bid on her at the bazaar because he had seen that she wanted to dance more than anything in the world. He had brought her that green bonnet and let her believe that it was his fault that she came out of mourning. She had wanted to shed the black cocoon of false widowhood and he had brought her gifts that made that possible. But he had never forced her to have his gifts of linens and silks made into dresses. Never once had he told her "wear this bonnet or I'll never see you again." He had always been there for her in whatever capacity she would allow him to occupy. Because he loved her, and she loved him She just hadn't known that till it had nearly been to late.

No longer pretending to modesty that when it came to him was long gone she moved her arm away from her full rose tipped breasts. Reaching out her hand, she stroked his cheek gently. He closed his eyes and reaching up caught her hand in his own. He held her palm against his cheek without opening his eyes or saying a word.

"I love you Rhett Butler." She laughed freely and with a beaming smile added, "That wasn't so hard, I wonder why we always made everything so difficult?"

He opened his eyes and slid their joined hands to his lips. Softly, he kissed her palm before releasing her hand. "Because we can't help ourselves. I suppose partially because we're cut from the same cloth, but mostly because I fear that we enjoy being at odds with one another."

"That isn't true. I hated fighting with you. Do you enjoy arguing with me?" she asked curiously.

"I enjoyed what came after for much of that first year."

She blushed and ducked her head. There was no need to clarify which was the first year in question. The first year they had been married was a time when she had experienced, for the first time in any of her marriages, what it was like to have anger turn to passion. Many times after an argument they had fallen into bed and engaged in fierce bouts of lovemaking.

Once, after a particularly heated exchange over something trivial that had rapidly escalated into her leaving the house because she was so infuriated at the way he became sarcastic and cold instead of yelling back, three days had passed without them speaking. Rhett had left early in the morning for whatever he occupied his days with and Scarlett had either spent all of her time closeted in her office at the house or at the mills. On the third night of going to bed without so much as a good night between them Scarlett had slipped into a fitful sleep. This time the nightmare that tore her from slumber was different from any she had ever endured previously.

_**She was in the parlor of a house decorated with soft muted chalky pastel colors. A slight movement drew her eye to wide French doors; one of the doors was slightly ajar. The curtains were sheer and moved slightly in the breeze, a breeze that was tinged with the faint aroma of something brackish…salt perhaps? **_

_**It was a room that was dignified without over reaching. A heavy anniversary clock dominated much of the fireplace mantle and the mirror above it had been turned to face the wall. She shivered lightly. There was only one reason why a mirror would be turned to face the wall. In some households the mirror was covered with black crepe, but her mother's people had always turned the mirror toward the wall. **_

_**Once when she had been about ten she had asked why and her mother had offered the explanation that it was something that her family had always done for reasons that were obscured by years of the careful observance of rituals that were now firmly established as what was done. Scarlett had finally worked out that that had been Ellen's way of saying she had no idea why she did it, she was just doing what the Robillards and other old European families of the South had always done.**_

_**The room in which she stood wasn't in any house she had ever lived in, nor visited, but she knew for certain that if she was tall enough and strong enough to move the square object away from the wall she would find the side facing the wall to be an ornate Venetian mirror with a beveled frame. In the corners would be entwined Celtic lovers knots. She knew that just as sure as she knew how many pennies were in a dollar.**_

_**For a time Scarlett stood in the doorway of the unfamiliar room taking in all of the small touches that made the room so serenely beautiful. It took several minutes before she noticed the long wooden box on the fabric draped boards and sawhorses. How could she have not noticed a coffin in the nearly empty, beautiful pastel hued room? It stood out in stark contrast to the pale lemon colored walls and white wainscoting. Directly positioned in front of the large bay window the rays of sunlight streaming through the windows made the dark wood appear to gleam with an oily sheen.**_

_**Scarlett squared her shoulders and forced herself to venture across the threshold. Her eye caught a glimpse of black bombazine skirt. Glancing down at her black skirts she knew that she belonged in the room with the large mantle clock stopped at 6:15. She was in mourning attire but for whom? Why was there no one else in the room speaking in hushed tones, discussing the dearly departed? In all of her twenty-three years Scarlett had attended many funerals, wakes, and viewings, but only twice had she been alone with the coffin before the wake had begun. **_

_**The first time was when Charlie had died. Henry Hamilton had told her to go in to the library before the wake so she could say a proper good bye to her husband of thirty-five days. Instead she had sat on the settee twisting her handkerchief wishing that her stomach would settle itself. She had been so young, so naïve. She hadn't even considered the possibility that she might have been with child.**_

_**The second time had been when the undertaker had brought Frank home. This time she had asked for a moment alone with Frank. Poor Frank who had been bullied into collecting outstanding debts from his friends so she could have the working capital she had needed to further invest in the mills. Poor Frank who had been emasculated before his neighbors and friends by her usurpation of the role of provider for their family. Frank had survived the war and wanted to marry Suellen and raise a family. Instead she had tricked him into tossing Sue aside so that there would be a way to save Tara from being lost. She had stood before his coffin and wept, not for him, but for her mother. Somewhere, somehow, Ellen could see her. Could see her misdeeds and major and minor deceits. And was disappointed. Deeply disappointed in her sinful wicked eldest daughter.**_

_**But whose coffin was this? Who could she be close enough to that she be considered chief mourner for? She walked slowly across the amber stained floorboards, in the middle of the room an ivory and pale blue carpet muffled her footfalls. Finally, after what seemed like a journey of a thousand steps, she was standing at the side of the coffin. **_

_**Its silver hardware was far more elaborate than the handles and coffin plates that had adorned Charles and Franks individual coffins. She could feel a sense of heaviness seeping into her bones. She had to force herself to read the coffin plate on the lid. Something made her want to gather her voluminous skirts in her clenched fists and run, run far and fast till she was a million miles away from the quiet stillness of the elegantly furnished parlor.**_

"**_No," she whispered, she wouldn't run away, couldn't run way. She wasn't a coward. She couldn't be so scared of a few words engraved on a rectangle of silver on a dark wooden box. She read the first line, nothing frightening there, just the standard Latin phrase, Requiescat In Pace, in heavy block letters. Below those ancient words was the name of the body within. She took a deep breath as she allowed her eyes to follow the graceful loops and curricles that formed the name of the deceased. At first she thought that she had misread it, that her eyes and mind were playing some sort of cruel joke. She read the name and second time, then a third fervently praying that the name on the silver plate would change before her eyes. But it did not change; the name remained the same no matter how hard she prayed it would change. There in flowing engraved lettering was the name Rhett Kinnicutt Butler. _**

_**The name on the plate was Rhett's; her husband was dead. **_

"_**No," she moaned, the heel of her shoe tore her skirt and she nearly lost her balance as she hastily backed away from the coffin. "No, not again, not Rhett," she groaned as tears began to course down her pale cheeks.**_

_**It wasn't possible, they had only just found one another this couldn't happen, it was too soon; not strong, confident, mocking, infuriating Rhett; her dearest friend and most bitter foe. Her tormentor and protector. He couldn't be dead. Not Rhett. She couldn't lose him, not without telling him... Her mind was frantic and she could hardly breathe, tell him what, what had she wanted to tell him? But before she could pause to examine that thought another came to her, what would become of her without Rhett? He ignited her temper, but he also made her laugh when she was sad. He was more to her than she'd ever let him know. Now he was gone and she would never have a chance to tell him how important he was to her. **_

_**She fell to her knees, grief stricken at the thought of a future without Rhett in it. "Not Rhett," she cried out, "Please, anyone but him," she begged. "Rhett," she screamed even as sobs shook her body. She cried his name again and again before allowing despair to complete swallow any other thoughts and feelings. She gave herself over to a grief that was greater than any she had ever previously known.**_

"**Sweetheart, shh, wake up honey," he murmured gently even as she cried out his name, her voice breaking painfully.**

"**Scarlett? Scarlett. Open your eyes baby, please, look at me."**

**She awoke to find someone holding her. Slowly she opened her eyes to met his own in the semi-darkness of their bedroom. He was holding her against his powerful chest, her body shook with violent sobs and tears poured from her eyes.**

**Without thinking she lifted her hand to his face, her fingers exploring the hard familiar planes of his face. "Rhett?" she managed to choke out. Clearing her throat she swallowed before attempting to speak again. "Oh Rhett, you're here."**

**He smiled kindly; his teeth shown brightly even in the gloomy darkness of their bedroom and she was reassured, he wasn't a dream or an apparition. "Of course I'm here, where else would I be at three in the morning besides in bed with my wife?"**

**The dream was already fading away, leaving only a few remaining images and thoughts that made little sense to her sleepy mind. "I thought you'd gone," she replied simply.**

**He looked into her red-rimmed eyes. The tears that still shimmered in them made her look so innocent, so in need of kindness and understanding that he pushed aside the silence and animosity that had existed over the last few days. She needed him and that was so rare that he refused to dwell on what had honestly been a foolish quarrel. "Gone where honey? On a trip?"**

**Where had he gone, she tried to recall the dream that had caused her to cry out in despair, but it was gone now. She rested her head on his bare chest; his skin was warm and reassuring against her cheek. "I don't remember. I'd lost you and I needed you." **

**She sighed softly and snuggled closer to his muscular frame. Tilting her head back she looked up at him and offered him a shy smile and he responded in kind. He reached up to brush her hair from her face, in these rare moments he could allow himself to acknowledge a painful truth, he was in love with his beautiful wife, a woman of a thousand moods and just as many faces. Her current visage was one of softness and need coupled with something else that he hoped was love or at very least need. **

"**Rhett you'd never leave me would you?" she asked before a yawn overpowered her.**

**The temptation to tease her was enormous but he knew that her question was important to her so he gave her the answer she needed. "No, of course I wouldn't," he replied smoothly, "I'm afraid you're never going to be rid of me." He shifted his body down till his neck was propped up comfortably. She settled herself into the hollow his semi turned body formed and he laughed quietly. "I'm sorry if that disappoints you," he murmured.**

**She wrapped her arm around his neck and craning her neck forward she whispered in his ear. "I don't want to be rid of you, not ever."**

**He smiled; a smile that was honest and sincere and lit his dark eyes from within. Their argument was completely forgotten and the three days of tense passings and hostile silence was washed away with that whispered admission. It wasn't a declaration of undying love, but he took it in the sprit it was offered. Drawing her even closer still she rested half on half off of his chest he murmured softly in her ear. "Until I leave you a wealthy widow," he teased.**

**She stiffened in his arms, how was he able to do that, read the secrets in her heart and mind, that was it exactly, her dream. He had died, left her to carry on alone, without him to comfort her. **

"**Sweetheart? You're a million miles away?"**

"**I'm right here," she replied offering to him her sweetly pursed mouth for one of those thrilling, dizzying kisses that shook her love for Ashley to it's very foundation. He obliged as though he could read her mind. His mouth was warm against her own. He positioned himself above her; his arms were around her, and his large hands cuped her shoulder blades as he began to ravage her mouth with his own.**

**She moaned softly as his tongue entered her mouth. Her hands were in his hair, holding his mouth on hers as though she were afraid he would pull away. He rolled onto his side taking her with him. Before she knew what was happening he had slid her nightgown to her waist. His mouth slid from hers and then slowly he lifted his head so that he could look at her, he was looking for something and she wanted him to find it. She loved Ashley, she did, but she also loved the way Rhett made her feel. If only there was a way to balance her feelings for one man with her feelings for the other.**

**He took his hands from her back and she fell back slightly onto the plump featherbed. She looked at him suspiciously, her green eyes wary. He sometime did that, brought her to ecstasy only to suddenly pull back, as though he were afraid of something.**

**But not tonight for suddenly his warm, slightly rough hands cupped her breasts and a roguish smirk shaped his full lips as his thumbs grazed her sensitive nipples. She gasped; the sudden breath swiftly flooded into her lungs and cased her chest to rise pressing her full breasts against his hands.**

"**Tell me what you want?" he asked softly, as he rubbed the pads of his thumbs over her sensitive flesh.**

**She flushed, shaking her head slightly. "Rhett, please," her voice was tight with desire, she hated when he teased like this. It wasn't fair; he knew exactly what she wanted. After nearly six months of marriage how could he not know the effect his touch had on her?**

"**Please is a good start, a very polite start," his laughter was gentle, without mockery. It wasn't that he wanted her to humble herself by asking him to make love to her; he only wanted her to stop being ashamed of the fact that what they did together was pleasurable to her.**

**She met his dark searching eyes with her own sharp cat eyes, the eyes that had haunted him since the first time he had looked into them in the library at Twelve Oaks. "I want you," she whispered so softly that at first she thought he hadn't heard her. The color that had stained her cheeks earlier darkened at the thought of having to repeat herself.**

**She could see that he was weighing her admission. She sighed, it wouldn't be enough and she didn't think that she could find the words he wanted to her from her. She was still shy about telling him what she wanted, sometimes it seemed that no matter what she gave him it was never enough.**

**But he surprised her, as only he could. "I know that you do, I want you too, did you know that?" he added before pressing his lips to hers.**

**She giggled against his lips and he pulled back with a laugh that was not sarcastic or abrasive but amused at her high sprits.**

**She leaned forward to return his kiss; she was feeling giddy and free, her nightmare gone from memory. "You've mentioned that a time or two."**

"**Only a time or two? Then clearly I am remiss in my husbandly duties."**

"**Clearly," she replied with a carefree laugh as he kissed her smiling lips again and again before bringing his lips down her throat till his lips grazed her...**

"Scarlett? You're blushing," commented Rhett with a grin.

"It's the water, it's very warm," she lied with a smug smile, conceited devil that he was he must have known what she was thinking about but she'd be damned if she openly admitted it to him.

"Really, let me check, I wouldn't want you to become overheated." He trailed his fingers across the surface of the water, just grazing her hip. She shivered at his touch.

"Now you're shivering, has it suddenly turned cold?" he inquired solemnly, his expression was worthy of the most innocent of cherubim.

She stretched languorously. "No. It's lovely."

His dark face was impossible to read, but his eyes told her all that she needed to know. He wanted her, was fighting himself because he was afraid of hurting her. She wanted to crow with triumph, she'd finally learned to look him in the eye and find the truth that had always been there, waiting for her.

"You look as though you're enjoying yourself," he offered causally.

She glanced up at him through her thick black lashes. It wouldn't talk very much to let him know how much she wanted him. "It's heavenly to be out of bed," she said. There, she thought triumphantly, now what ever happens is entirely up to him.

"Sometimes it can be heavenly to be in bed," he replied with a smirk,

"Why Rhett Butler," she said, her Georgian accent as thick as molasses, you are a cad."

"So I've been told."

"Rhett?"

"Yes?"

"Do remember when you use to ask me what I wanted?"

Confusion was clear in his expression for a moment before understanding shaped his sensual lips into a smile.

"Perhaps. Though as I recall you often had a hard time telling me preciously what you wanted."

"I don't mean to be difficult, but that's where you are mistaken. I told you exactly what I wanted, you."

"I don't want to hurt you."

She smiled as she gestured for him to come closer. "I'm not made of glass Rhett Butler. I won't shatter."

"I just couldn't stand it if I hurt you. I've waited this long, a little longer won't kill me."

"Speak for yourself," she replied as she lifted her hand to trace his lips with her pointer finger.

"You're sure?" he asked.

"More sure than I have ever been of anything."

Heedless of the mess he was about to make Rhett plunged his hands beneath the water and took hold of her slim waist. Scarlett reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck as he swiftly stood, cradling her to his chest.

"Rhett, you're positively drenched," she exclaimed giggling at the sight of his sodden shirtfront.

He laughed heartily. "So I am. I think it would be wise to get out of these damp clothes before I come down with something."

He put her down a small padded stool and with more care than she thought necessary he helped her slid her arms into her dressing gown. "Mother and the children have gone to King Street to run several small errands, Penny is in the kitchen sewing one of Ella's dresses, and Rosemary isn't expected back till just before teatime. It would appear Mrs. Butler that I have you all to myself for the time being."

Her heart began to pound faster as he swept her up into his arms. "Indeed Captain Butler," she replied as she increased her Georgian accent into what Rhett laughing called her southern belle simper, "and what do you intend on doing to entertain me for the time being?"


	53. Benedictions and Blessings

**MATURE SUBJECT MATERIAL! **

**ADULT THEMES IN TH_IS_ CHAPTER **

**READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED**

**Hope everyone enjoys :D**

He used his foot to push her bedroom door closed behind them. Her lips curved in a knowing smile as he laid her on the bed. Her wrapper was nearly as wet as his shirt and clung to her breasts and stomach just as her nightgown had the night he had bullied her in this very room.

That night temptation had nearly reared its serpentine head. He had wanted her that night, and he had been so close to taking what he wanted. He would have only hurt her if he had. Even now as he regared her with desire clearly written on his face, he was concerned that he could hurt her. She was still in pain and he would not be the inflictor of more pain. "You are sure, I don't want to rush things. We could wait till…"

Her eyes were luminous and stilled his words. She smiled softly and reached out her hands to him. He took them in his and lifted first her left hand then her right to his lips, brushing a kiss on each.

She sighed softly, her eyes were half closed and she relished the feel of his lips against her sensitive skin. "All my life I've been waiting for something, I know what I want Rhett."

"What do you want?" he asked, his voice low and throbbing with desire.

"You."

Time seemed to fade away in the sanctuary of her bedroom. The past was behind them and there was only the moment they were living in. She watched with frank interest as he undressed himself, they had been married for almost seven years and never in all the times they'd come together had she watched him with such unabashed curiosity. He carelessly kicked off his shoes. He never hurried as he continued to undress, unbuttoning the three pearl buttons on his sopping wet white Albert shirt, then in one fluid motion he threw his shirt aside before he took off his trousers leaving them in a discarded puddle of fabric on the floor.

There was no trace of embarrassment or modesty on Rhett's part. He was aware of the beauty of his hard, muscle heavy body, completely confident as he met her wide green eyes with his own amused gaze though he stood before her without a stitch of clothing. She flushed at her own brazen behavior. He clearly knew that she had watched his every movement with clear interest.

She had been a fool to turn him from her bed for the sake of Ashley Wilkes. How could she have been so blind to what had been in front of her? She shivered lightly, the air in the room was cool and her wrapper was very damp.

"Nervous?" he asked as he joined her on her bed.

"Anxious," she whispered.

"Ah, he sighed, "Well then…"

His hands were gentle as he untied the sash on her dressing gown and slowly, giving her ample time to ask him to cease, he unveiled her body to his appreciative gaze.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered huskily at the sight of her smooth pale skin bathed in the soft golden midmorning light that illuminated her room.

"So are you," she whispered shyly.

His fingertips grazed her skin gently, drawing lazy figure eights on her stomach. She shivered lightly and immediately his hand stilled. "Are you sure you're well enough for this? I know you were in pain earlier; I don't want you to feel obligated or rushed. I've waited this long to be with you again, I can give you all the time you need."

Her lips curved upward into a sweet smile but it was her eyes that conveyed her feelings toward the idea of waiting. They were bright, nearly feverish with ill concealed longing for the feel of his bare skin against hers.

"Why Rhett Butler, that's mighty chivalrous of you. How is it that I came to be so lucky when it comes to my husband? He's smart, handsome, considerate…I'd say he's just about perfect save one major shortcoming."

He chuckled softly before stroking the rise of her cheekbone with the back of his hand. "This man sounds a veritable paragon of virtue. But you say he has one major shortcoming, what might that be Mrs. Butler."

She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck pulling his lips toward her own. "He talks entirely too much," she said with a soft laugh at the way his mouth went down at one corner as he tried to remain completely serious.

"A situation that I can easily remedy," he replied before taking her mouth in a scorching kiss. At first she was shy in her response, not wanting to draw scorn from him but soon his hands curved around her waist drawing her gently toward him till they lay side by side, flesh on flesh, two become one.

His skin was warm against hers and she bit back a moan of pure pleasure as he slid his hands up and down her nude body. No, her mind cried at this act of restraint. She could hold back and remain a lady or she could give herself over to desire. Once she had clung to the façade of ladylike modesty and it had cost her many nights of shared pleasure in Rhett's bed. There was only one path to tread now, that of passion and ecstasy.

Her hip and leg were sore, but the hour she had spent in the warm bath had gone a long way towards soothing her aching joints. Even if she were still in agony, it wouldn't matter. Every inch of her body ached for his touch, she was nearly consumed by her desire for him; the feelings that his mouth, his hands, the scent of his skin and the weight of him leaning against her body were evoking feelings that were so intense she thought her heart would burst as the hot blood of lust coursed through her veins.

Moaning his name even as his tongue plunged still further into her mouth Scarlett met his kisses with her own. Initially, she was tentative in her overtures; in a moment of sheer daring she ventured into seldom explored territory, she shyly touched her tongue to his. Her reward was nearly instantaneous. He groaned her name and brought his hand to the back of her head, entwining his fingers in her slightly damp, tangled locks.

Then his lips were on her throat sliding down toward her breasts. "God, you smell incredible, what is it that you smell like?" she heard him groan. She was about to answer when suddenly she gasped and her back arched swiftly as his damp, hot mouth found her quickly tightening nipple. His teeth grazed the extreme tip of her nipple while his tongue tasted the skin around it moving in lazy circles till she moaned deep in her throat.

He moved his mouth away only to replace it with his slightly calloused, rough hand. She struggled to sit up, wishing to let him know of her disappointment at the withdrawal of his teasing tongue but he only gently pushed her back down till she was flat on her back atop the buoyant featherbed. Rhett's hand continued to knead the soft yielding flesh of her breast. His mouth was now lavishing equal attention on her formerly neglected left breast.

She wriggled eagerly; her panting gasps for air seemed to only encourage him to further work toward pleasing her. His right hand slid from her breast to glide down her ribcage, then her stomach, then still further it wandered till his clever fingers found the very center of her arousal. Everything was happening so slowly but at the same time she felt as though life was rushing past her in the blink of an eye.

Rhett kissed her once more, even as his fingers unexpectedly slid inside her in one swift motion. She cried out then her body arching off the bed, the sound muffled by his mouth as it ravished hers. Expertly, he manipulated his fingers and the palm of his hand against her sensitive flesh, drawing sounds from her throat that she would have been ashamed of making if she were in her right mind. But she was no longer in her right mind, she was being driven toward the brink of something previously unknown by his manipulations of her flesh.

She wanted to retain some shred of dignity but her treacherous body refused. Sanity and modesty were gone, replaced by a wanton and pleasure hungry woman that she hadn't known existed within her. Later she might blush to recall how it was between then in her sun soaked bedroom but for now caution and rational thought were gone in a storm of ecstasy that was cascading over her in waves of increasing intensity.

His lips were on her throat and he begun to graze the tender skin of her jaw line with his teeth. Added to that was the sensation of his close clipped moustache as it repeatedly brushed against her earlobe and the way his nose brushed the inner curve of her ear. She whispered his name gutturally; the inflection in her voice offered up that single syllable as a prayer to a long forgotten pagan god; Rhett had once hinted to her that the Roman's worshipped their Gods with practices that would make her blush. She had been ignorant of the sort of meaning he was hinting at. But that had been then and this was now. In all the time she had gone to church she had never felt so grateful for being alive as she did in this single moment. Her husband worshiped her body with a devotion that would have pleased any deity. She cried out again, seeking something that was beyond her scope of understanding and now it was she that was a humbled supplicant begging for a benediction.

Her head thrashed back and forth as he increased the tempo of his movements inside of her tight, slick passage. On the beach after they'd come ashore she had felt these sensations, the complete abandonment of modesty and decorum in exchange for the way only he could make her feel. She could barely remember to breathe as she writhed in agony and ecstasy at his touch. She was reaching toward something that seemed both distant and nearly obtainable, something that was hurtling toward her threatening to shatter any remaining hold she had on herself.

It was this complete break between the need for safety and the thrill of passion that enabled her to cry out breathlessly what she wanted, no embarrassment or fainthearted reluctance would hold her back from obtaining what she wanted from him.

"Please," she groaned softly her words shaky and breathless, "No more, I can't please, I need you now, Rhett please," the last syllable of the word please rose to a moan as he withdrew his fingers and then without preamble he was inside of her, stretching her fully around his hardness. She moved beneath him, her body bucking upward till her breasts pressed against his unyielding chest, the friction of his movements pushed her finally toward the release she had so desperately hoped to obtain.

She screamed his name again and again, heedless of anyone who might hear her. He drew her closer and for a moment was still, his eyes met hers and she smiled sensually, sated and for the first time in their entire marriage she was completely at ease with his intimate proximity. He was still inside her, hard and filling her completely. Curious at the effect, she breathed deeply contracting her pelvic muscles, drawing him still deeper inside her.

He drew a harsh, gasping breath at her bold, unexpected action. "We shouldn't yet, there's something I could do to stop…"

"Shh," she pressed her lips to his, whatever he had to say to her wasn't nearly as important was what he was doing to her. Remembering his earlier response she bore down with her pelvic muscles before biting his bottom lip gently between her front teeth

He was speaking now, his lips less than an inch from hers, muttering the secrets of his long concealed love. But once more it was his actions that spoke more eloquently than words. Slowly, maddeningly so, he begun to move above her again sliding almost completely from her before filling her fully once more. She had thought that he could taken her no further than he had only minutes before, but she had underestimated his abilities when properly motivated.

She felt every nerve in her body tingling and then the sensations were building once more, centered on an area of her body that previously she'd given little thought too. Now it seemed as though every nerve in her body was directly connected to the small area of flesh at the juncture of her thighs.

"Rhett," she moaned frantically, her all consuming need for him was clear in her voice and he pushed forward eagerly into her softly fragrant flesh. Her nipped her earlobe unexpectedly and she cried out wordlessly, even as she raked her fingernails down his broad, muscle heavy back.

The pain of her sharp nails clawing his back was tempered by pleasure and Rhett found himself losing all pretenses of control. He was no more in control of his emotions than she was.

Hadn't he wanted this that night when he had confronted her after arriving home from a day of sailing? He had fantasized about taking her on this very bed, making love to her untill she screamed his name again and again, and now fantasy had crossed the realm of dreams and become reality right down to her nails leaving a primitive tattoo on his back branding him as her lover.

He looked into her green eyes and what he found in them banished the last lingering doubts when it came to the decision he had made concerning his marriage. They had fought their way back to one another and it was both as simple and as complex as that. He had thought that in the end their marriage had been shattered like a delicate piece of crystal but he had been wrong. He'd never been one to admit when he was wrong, but this one time he could see just how close to tragedy they had nearly been. She was finally in his arms and in his bed and he could never let her go.

Their love was something that could be bent but could not be broken. She hadn't been able to stop him from leaving her in Atlanta but she had been able to bring herself to come to Charleston and put herself in front of him till there was no way to escape what he felt for her.

He had spent the majority of his time at the Landing or at the mines to escape those haunting, waiting, hopeful jade hued eyes. Her presence in the room next to his with only a door and a lifetime of hurt feelings and misunderstood motives drove him to distraction. He had spent dozens of sleepless nights since the day she had arrived. But tonight he would sleep in his wife's bed and if he awoke she would be there, within arms reach and though the past was still there between them, the future loomed before them.

It was a future that he could have never conceived in his most secret heart only a year before, hell only a month before. It was a future in which he would awaken to find her next to him, he had tried to run from her, escape from the feelings that she always brought to the surface no matter how hard he tried to suppress them. But there had been no escape and now she was beneath him calling his name just as she had countless times in his dreams. But the woman that he held in his arms was made of warm flesh and blood not fashioned from longing and imagination.

"Rhett," she gasped suddenly, her hands gripping his shoulders with strength he hadn't known she possessed "I love you so much," her body arched upward spasmodically as lost herself completely, "so much," she repeated breathlessly.

He rained kisses on her lips, her cheeks, and her brow while responding. "I never stopped loving you." He increased the movements of his lower body, thrusting into her again and again, subconsciously marveling at how different it was to be with the woman he had loved for so long as opposed to the women he had bedded over the years in desperate attempts to exercise her from his heart.

Thank god everyone is out, was Scarlett's last thought as Rhett cried her name hoarsely seconds before she felt the familiar warmth of his desire filling her once more.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Rosemary walked down the carpeted upstairs hall toward Scarlett's room. She hadn't meant to return to the house as late as she had but after leaving Jason's house she had encountered several acquaintances, all of whom wanted to know if Rhett's wife's condition was improving.

Her mother hadn't been in the parlor when she had arrived and so she had asked Scarlett's maid Penny about her mother's whereabouts. She had been dismayed to find that Scarlett's children had long since arrived and had accompanied her mother on an errand to the bakery in Roth Street alley. Scarlett must have been disappointed that Rosemary hadn't been on hand to welcome the children and so she made her way upstairs intent on apologizing to her sister in law who was rapidly becoming one of her dearest friends.

Her mind drifted to the main reason for her delay, Jason Cross. Oh, but Rhett would kill her or him or the both of them if he found out that they had shared a moment of stolen bliss before she'd left his house earlier that morning. She loved her brother but now in the face of the first thing they'd ever disagreed on she also resented him just a little. Rhett had been exiled for years for doing whatever he wanted instead of conforming to father's expectations for him. Who was he to then try and prevent her from following her own heart? She had given him unwavering support ever since he'd arrived last year battered and bruised from his tumultuous marriage to Scarlett. Then when he had decided that his love for Scarlett hadn't really run out she had not only supported him but had opened her heart to the woman he adored despite all the hurt she had caused Rhett.

Now that she needed his understanding she was fairly sure that she would not receive it. She wanted her brother to be happy, but she also wanted herself to be happy and Jason Cross would make her happy, if only Rhett wouldn't stand in their way. He thought her to be a life long bachelor, like he himself had once been.

There had been many seasons in which she had gone unloved and that had never bothered her a wit. But now she had found what she had been waiting for, the love that had eluded her. She wasn't a romantic as a rule but Jason Cross had awakened those feelings within her and she could not, would not allow them to become dormant again. Not to please her mother or Rhett or Ross. No for once in her life she wanted to please only herself.

A loud cry broke through her internal monologue startling her. That cry was followed by the sound of Scarlett calling Rhett's name. Clutching her skirts in her hand Rosemary raced to Scarlett's door in a panic. Penny hadn't mentioned Rhett when she had asked where everyone was and icy fear clutched Rosemary's heart. Had Scarlett, while unattended, fallen from her bed. What if she had injured herself even worse than before? Rhett would never forgive himself.

It was only as she pushed the door opened that she heard her brother call out Scarlett's name in a voice that sounded like he was in agony. She nearly rushed into the room ready to offer aid when her eyes took in a startling sight.


	54. Myths

**I don't know if the real humor of this chapter wil be over the heads of some of the younger readers...I do want to share this with you all, my ever faithful readers...when I was just about to go into I think 9th grade my mother sat me down for "the talk" many of you know the one...about sex. **

**To this day, years later, I remember my first horrified reaction when my mother clarified for me the various half truths and things I had picked up from cheesy romance novels and soap operas...someone is going to put what where and I'm going to bleed? What the hell kind of person would enjoy that, can't we just hold hands instead? **

**Poor Rosemary, who knows how she'd react because my reaction was pure hilarity and shock and we had Cinemax (skinamax after dark lol) **

**Also, I'm just saying not from personal experince wink wink but people who are smart enough to practice safe sex sometimes do forget to lock doors and then get the hell embaressed out of them in incidents that are then refered to as "I thought you guys were arguing" for years after.**

ENJOY :D

Rosemary closed her bedroom door behind her, her cheeks crimson with embarrassment at the very private moment she had just witnessed between her brother and Scarlett. How was she to know that something like that would be going on, could be going in? It was nearly teatime, and the door hadn't even been locked.

She glanced toward the window seat in her bedroom at the bright sun lit world on the other side of the windowpanes. It was daylight. People simply didn't' do that sort of thing during daylight hours. Most people. So she believed. Her knowledge of when it was socially permissible for a husband and wife to copulate was woefully limited. Perhaps it was entirely normal for a man and his long estranged wife to have marital relations in the middle of the day while yelling so loud as to wake the dead and horrify the living.

But she saw her own fault in the matter at hand quite clearly. If she had simply knocked instead of charging to what she thought was Scarlett's aid she wouldn't have seen a thing. They had been yelling one another's names but never the word help, Rosemary reasoned fairly. She wished she had been just ten minutes later coming home. Then she wouldn't have seen them. But from that realization came another. They had been so involved that neither of them had noticed her.

Thank god they didn't see me, she thought gratefully. That would have been excruciating, as it was she hardly knew how she would meet Scarlett's emerald eyes the next time they were in the same room. Rosemary knew that Scarlett would quickly deduce there was something bothering her. Scarlett had unexpectedly developed the uncanny knack of being able to turn her startling jewel hued eyes on someone and come to the very crux of the matter that the other party was desperately trying to conceal. Was it something she had learned from being a businesswoman or from being married to Rhett? She didn't know, but it was terribly uncomfortable to be on the receiving end of Scarlett's penetrating gaze.

Rhett swore that in Atlanta Scarlett had been terribly unaware when it came to reading people but Rosemary suspected that it was simply because she had been so focused on things within her own sphere of life that she couldn't be bothered with other people and there inner workings. After all why bother caring what people were thinking when you had worries all your own to contend with. But now with hours upon hours of time on her hands Scarlett had nurtured a talent that had most likely been born of being a successful businesswoman.

She had nearly interrupted them and that thought plagued her without ceasing. Her hands were clammy with nervous sweat; they were so damp that her gloves were sticking to her palms. She peeled off her soft gray kid gloves, which had been a gift from Scarlett, and flung them carelessly on her bureau.

How could she face them later? She had witnessed them in the midst of…whatever it was they were doing. It wasn't that she didn't know what they were doing; it just seemed so terribly far removed from the images of lovemaking her bookish mind had preconceived.

Rosemary looked down at her hands. Both hands were clenched painfully into fists, her fingernails cutting into the tender flesh of her palms. Carefully she extended her fingers curving them upwards slowly before flexing them several times. They were stiff and cramped with tension and her palms bore red half-moon indentations from her fingernails.

Try as she might she could not force herself to calm down. Embarrassment and a far more base emotion; curiosity, were running rampant in equal measures through her mind. Sitting at her desk she withdrew her blank book and paged ideally through it to calm herself.

Was what they were doing what her books meant when they alluded to lovemaking between the hero and heroine? In books it seemed as though lovemaking was comprised of a few passion rich kisses, several caresses, and then hours after spent entwined in one another's arms.

In Miss Bronte's novel _Jane Eyre,_ Mister Rochester and Jane Eyre share a passionate embrace then later in the story they marry and she bears him a child. The story had been so terribly romantic, poor plain Jane Eyre had won the heart of her dashing wealthy employer. But hadn't Mister Rochester told Jane that he had descended into sorts of debauchery that her pure mind would not have been able to imagine, let alone accept. He'd spoken of the time after the death of his father and brother when he'd drifted around the continent from one city to the next, always in search of a woman to love. When he was met with disappointment, he sank into debauchery.

Her brother had been met with disappointment throughout his marriage to Scarlett. The only time he'd seemed happy was when he was with Bonnie, her heart had ached for him after her niece's tragic death. If only Scarlett hadn't fallen and miscarried their unborn second child, perhaps that baby would have soothed some of her brother's pain at losing his beloved daughter.

Rosemary's analytical mind refused to grant her peace. It continued to pick on details that she would have rather turned a blind eye toward. How had that other baby been conceived? Rhett had confided in her when he'd first come home after leaving Atlanta the sordid truth about his marriage, they had stopped sharing a bed shortly after Bonnie had been born. According to Rhett, Scarlett had told him that she no longer wished to share a bed because she didn't want any more children. But if that were true then how had the second baby come into being, had Scarlett changed her mind about having more children? That must have been it, Scarlett must have simply changed her mind.

Except, her shrewd mind whispered, Scarlett did not seem the type to change her mind willy-nilly. If she had decided not to have another baby with Rhett it must have taken something enormous to change her stance on the subject. Something that had completely changed her opinion, how else would Rhett have gotten her with child…

Horror wiped the color from her cheeks. Rhett was a God in her eyes; he had swept into her life only days after father's death. He had sent Rosemary to finishing school and hired tutors for her to study with. He'd bought her paints, books, dresses, whatever her heart desired since coming into her life. Since she had been fifteen Rhett had done no wrong in her eyes. But a nagging painful thought had unexpectedly forced itself into her mind and demanded to be examined. If Scarlett had told her brother that she would bear him no more children, then how did she conceive the baby she'd lost after her fall down the stairs of their house in Atlanta?

The image of what she had accidentally seen in Scarlett's bedroom was seared into her brain. It had been so primitive looking and vaguely brutal. Rhett was far heavier than Scarlett. Scarlett had the tiny frame of a fairytale princess while Rhett was built on the mold of the carefully inked plates she had seen of statues of Ares in a book Rhett had sent her when he'd last visited Europe.

Rosemary let loose a painful gasp of laughter. There had been an excerpt from The Odyssey in that particular volume that came to her mind, the comparison between the legend and what had just happened was glaringly apparent. The Sun-God, Helios, once spied Ares and Aphrodite enjoying each other secretly in the hall of Hephaestus. Hoping to start mischief he promptly reported the incident to Aphrodite's Olympian consort, Hephaestus. Hephaestus contrived to catch the couple so he fashioned a net with which to snare the illicit lovers. At the appropriate time, this net was sprung, and trapped Ares and Aphrodite locked in very private embrace. But Hephaestus was not yet satisfied with his revenge - he invited the Olympian gods and goddesses to view the unfortunate pair.

Her sister in law was pettite and seemed to be as fragile as a chinadoll. Rhett outweighed her by at least sixty pounds if not more, surely his weight on top of her was uncomfortable, but was it enough to be painful? Her mother had hinted several times over the years that there was often some sort of pain involved when a woman fulfilled her marital obligations. When she'd first heard Scarlett's cries out in the hallway she had assumed they were cries of agony but she had been obviously mistaken, or had she?

Was that why Scarlett had barred Rhett from her bed? Rosemary frowned before she rose and begun to pace about her room. Was what her brother did to Scarlett in bed painful? But surely if it were painful… he'd stop if she asked him to. Was that why married men often took mistresses, because copulating was painful for women? Rhett had also cried out in a voice that seemed strained combined with something else she couldn't identify. Was he aware that he was hurting Scarlett but he simply wanted her so much he couldn't stop?

Rhett had waited for Scarlett for years. He had been disappointed by first losing her to her second husband then when she had turned him out of her room. Had her brother sunk into the sort of debauchery like the kind Mister Rochester had vaguely alluded to in Jane Eyre? What sort of places did her brother visit in his years abroad? Did he patronize houses of ill repute or keep a mistress?

She knew something of the woman men kept for the purpose of pleasure. Her cousin Elizabeth had confided in her about their cousin Eustace, thought it was old gossip, but still it was intriguing to hear about the young woman Eustace had kept years ago in New Orleans. Eustace had been at the Medical College of Louisiana because Great-grandfather Carter knew one of the founders. Eustace hadn't wanted to be a doctor but he had failed out of several other schools so it was either the Medical College or be disowned. While attending the college and living in the flat Grandfather Butler had rented for him, Eustace had met a young girl of fifteen or sixteen and installed her in his home.

There had been whispers that she had born Eustace a child, a boy, that Grandfather Butler had told Eustace to dispose of or be damned with his whore and bastard. Rosemary wasn't sure if that was idle gossip or soild fact but Eustace had married the woman he had been told to by Grandfather Carter. Eustace was often morose and melancholy and through Rhett was terribly fond of their cousin Rosemary seldom if ever actively sought his company. Once married he had settled down to a life spent raising horses.

Did Rhett have a child out in the world somewhere? A child that was forever barred from all the things being a Butler meant? She hoped not, indeed thought not because Rhett loved his stepchildren deeply and Bonnie had been the center of the world. But did he love those three children so much because Scarlett was their mother?

Was what Rhett had been doing with Scarlett normal or debauched? What decided the difference between the two? Did married couple engage in that sort of thing even if they couldn't or didn't want children?

For the first time in her life Rosemary began to examine the other marriages she had a close proximity to. There was Emily and Ross. They didn't share a room. She had often helped Emily with spring-cleaning and she was fully aware Emily had her own room, as did Ross. They didn't have any children; perhaps Ross had hurt Emily so badly that she no longer could endure her wifely duties. Mother had said Emily couldn't have children, that many DeSaussure's had been barren. Was that simply a falsehood told to cover up something more sinister? Ross was, after all, a brooding, crude, sadistic drunk. What woman in her right mind would want a man like that to touch her?

Eustace and his wife, Olivia, had nine children and still shared a room, what precisely did that mean? Anything? Nothing? They didn't seem to be passionately in love, but they were fond of one another and never quarreled in public. Rhett and Scarlett quarreled constantly behind closed doors and in front of them. But presently they certainly weren't quarreling. But had Scarlett only given in to Rhett's desires to save her marriage? It was confusing applying what she knew of romance and martial obligation from novels and overheard conversation to the couples she knew.

There were women of her acquaintance who were unmarried. Julia Ashley for one; she'd never married despite wanting desperately a male heir to inherit her family's plantation. Maybe she had known something that many unmarried girls of her association hadn't about the nature of men and their urges.

Sally and Miles didn't have children but they were deeply in love with one another. Did they simply not engage in copulation because they didn't want children? Were there couples of her association living like brother and sister because lovemaking was not the beautiful communion between two people she'd always believed it to be?

Juliet all but crows after spending the night with Romeo and in classical texts Persephone refuses to leave hell because of the feelings Hades stirs within her. Life wasn't a novel though and she could no longer afford to let her preconceived romantic notions color reality.

Armed with those thoughts her mind pitched a heated battle, romanticism taking a stance against cynicism. Surely what a man and woman did behind closed doors wasn't painful to either party. If it were painful then would poets write about lovemaking in such glowing prose? Although, Rosemary thought smirking, most poets were men and obviously if marital relations hurt those big crybabies would let the human race die out. Her father was the first to roar and carry on if he so much as stubbed his toe but he couldn't understand why a woman brought to childbed carried on so.

Rhett loved Scarlett more than his own life, the way he had sat vigil at her bedside while she had been ill proved that beyond a doubt. If he had the slightest indication that anything he was doing to her was hurting her he'd stop, wouldn't he?

Unless, a black imp in her soul whispered, he was just so caught up in being welcomed back to his wife's bed that he missed her pained cries. The more sensible part of her giggled self-consciously, how could he miss the way Scarlett had been screaming, Rosemary had been halfway down the hallway and she had heard Scarlett cry out Rhett's name over and over again.

Lucky they had been concealed by the bedclothes for the most part so she'd seem very little that would cause her to blush whenever she was in her brother's presence. The only thing she had seen clearly before hastily closing the bedroom door as quietly as humanly possible was her sister in laws long oval shaped finger nails rake up her brother's tanned back. What had he been doing to her that would incite that sort of response?

Was that how it was between a man and a woman…raw, primitive, unashamedly wanton? Perhaps it was just that way between her brother and Scarlett. They were, after all, both of extremely passionate natures. They were quite opposite in nature, Scarlett with her fiery temper and Rhett with his sharp biting wit and rigidly controlled rages.

Rosemary knew that Rhett had been infuriated by Scarlett's unexpected appearance in Charleston. Several times she had heard them, voices raised in anger, hurling fierce heated words back and forth like verbal bullets. In the aftermath of those arguments they had both seemed unfulfilled, as though arguing was only the beginning of some sort of scenario that had played out numerous times over the years. Was that how they had once ended arguments, by having relations. Did they think of it as simply relations? Rosemary suspected not, but what they had been doing hardly seemed the definition of lovemaking.

Though Rosemary was naïve she was no foolish uneducated girl. While she had little practical experience of relations between men and women she had always been an avid reader and Rhett had been less than morally diligent when it came to the books he had brought into the house over the years. He had continually purchased books for her since returning to Charleston the year before. Many were works of moral and social value but there had been a good deal that were more… colorful. While reading them she had dismissed many things as artistic license but now, well now she had seen that raw unadulterated passion could in fact exist in the real world.

After working through several possibilities she'd arrived at the only thing that made sense. Scarlett loved Rhett with all her heart. Rhett hadn't left Scarlett's side the entire time she'd been unconscious at the Fort's Hospital. They loved one another deeply and what occurred between them behind closed doors was obviously something that both of them wanted.

If it could exist between Scarlett and Rhett then perhaps it would be that way between her and Jason. She flushed guiltily. Jason wasn't even courting her, he had yet to make his intentions known to Rhett and here she was daydreaming about what it would be like if they felt that sort of desire for one another. But then again Jason was so terribly reserved and serious, more likely than not he would be that way in bed… In bed, those two words turned her stomach to ice. What if he expected her to respond to him the way Scarlett responded to Rhett?

Did all women respond the way Scarlett did? No, probably not. Scarlett was one of a kind. Rosemary knew she could never act like Scarlett. Scarlett was fire and passion. She was alluring even when she wasn't attempting to be. Her face and eyes fooled you; one minute she was an innocent child who had to be protected the next she was a siren leading men to jump ship and reach her or drown trying. You never knew how she would respond to anything. Was that part of her charm for Rhett? It had to be, her brother was someone who enjoyed things that defied expectations. Scarlett was someone who existed in a constant state of flux, ever different, never predictable.

Ever since Rhett had divulged the scandalous fact that Scarlett had had not one but three husbands Rosemary had been secretly curious. Did Rhett resent the fact that he hadn't been her first husband? He hadn't been the first man to touch her, he hadn't even been second. But was Scarlett more passionate because she had had more than one husband? She obviously had relations with all three husbands; Wade, Ella and Bonnie were proof of that.

Had Rhett wanted to be her first lover? He had confided in Rosemary that he loved Scarlett for years, almost since the first time they'd met. It must have been awful to know the woman you loved was sharing another man's bed, and was doing so as his wife. It must have been equally awful when after he'd married her she had thought she had been in love with her old beau, Ashley. But Rhett had also told her that while Scarlett may have repeatedly committed adultery in her heart she would have never shared anyone's bed without the benefit of a marriage license. Was that wrong, to fantasize about one man even if you were otherwise faithful to another?

Rosemary glanced up in the mirror. Her face was flushed with guilt at what she'd been thinking about for the last half hour. Well brought up young women didn't think about the sort of thing she had been thinking about, but she couldn't help herself. It had never been particularly pressing to her, what happened between men and woman because she hadn't been in love before, but now she was.

Did passionate embraces and pledges of undying love lead to the sort of thing her brother and sister in law were perhaps still engaging in? She felt very deeply for Jason Cross and would enjoy being courted by him. Perhaps in the fullness of time she would find herself his bride and then she would share his life and to that end…his bed.

Rosemary bit her bottom lip, what did a man really expect from his wife, especially in their first year of marriage? Scarlett had been married three times, if anyone would know she would. If only there were a way to somehow make inquiries. Though Scarlett was generally very forthcoming in response to any and all of Rosemary's questions she was fairly sure that her sister in law might be reluctant to tutor her in the ways of pleasing a man, even if you hoped to have that man as a husband.

But perhaps if she approached Scarlett just right she could at form least some sort of basis for what was expected of a wife in the privacy of the bedroom. She giggled at the thought of a spring of picnics and sitting on the front porch discussing books and music and the world in general with Jason Cross.

If only Rhett would see things her way…

Rosemary seated herself at her desk and opened her blank book to the last page. In her looping clean hand she began to form combinations of her name with that of Jason Cross. It might never come to pass, but in case Rhett did consent then where was the harm in appreciating just how smart Mrs. Rosemary Cross looked on paper?


	55. In the Rough

Entwined in one another's arms Scarlett and Rhett were for the first time in their lives in perfect harmony with one another and all without having to say a word. There was no need to speak now, everything they had needed to say had been expressed, one way or another. He stroked her back gently, his fingers gliding up and down her spine. Her head rested on his right shoulder and her left arm was flung haphazardly across his chest with the palm of her hand resting on his collarbone. She was lazy and heavy with contentment. Every muscle in her body was relaxed and she only wanted to remain next to him enjoying the scent of cigars and the expensive hair tonic that was singularly Rhett.

"Scarlett?" his drawl cut through the fog of pleasure that still clouded her mind.

"Hmm?" She didn't bother to open her eyes, she knew that he too was finally satisfied.

His hand cupped her buttock concealed from sight by the sheet he had pulled over them. She laughed airily at the bold way he trailed his fingertips across her bare sensitive skin. They had never just lain together in bed touching one another after…

A hiccup of laughter escaped her lips. For the rest of her life she would break up their marital relations into two categories, before and after Charleston. During their honeymoon and the first years of their marriage she had found some satisfaction in Rhett's attentions in bed but she would never have gone s far to refer to what they did as making love. But on the rain drenched beach neither she nor Rhett had held anything back. He had told her that he loved her and she had reciprocated.

The way they had just been together could be called nothing else except making love. Finally she understood why some people found deep satisfaction in their lover's bed. She had never thought to find that sort of ecstasy in her own life and in fact had felt a vague tightening in her chest that she had never thought to put a name to when her "speculator" friends would discuss, in guarded whispers, their own exploits. Now she knew what that tightening had been, jealousy. She had been saddened that she herself would never share her body with a man who truly loved her. She had known that she could never turn her back on her vows; whether or not she could honor them in spirit she could most certainly uphold them in actuality. Rhett had given her his name and while she bore it she would never allow another man what she had denied her own husband, her body.

"Don't fall asleep darling."

Her body jerked at the sound of his voice as it cut through her musings, "I wasn't," she countered with a pout that soon dissolved into a fit of giggles. "Well alright, perhaps I was dozing, a little," she confessed before kissing his chest.

He tipped her chin up so he could look at her beautiful, still flushed face. "Mother and the children will be home soon. Given Ella's penchant for bursting into rooms unannounced I think it would be wise for us to get dressed."

"You raise a valid point Mister Butler."

He inclined his head toward her face and playfully kissed the tip of her nose. "How are you feeling, really?"

'I feel like I finally belong somewhere."

"You've always belonged somewhere, with me. You were just to stubborn to accept the inevitable."

"Stubborn?" she said angrily before laughing out loud. "You're calling me stubborn, I can think of but one thing to say to that, I only took my cues from the master."

"Guilty as charged." He sat up pulling her with him. The sheet that had been haphazardly thrown over them slid to pool around her waist and for a moment he only sat there drinking in just how beautiful his wife really was. He hadn't lied when he'd previously told her that he had seen women who possessed more physical beauty than her, but if he ever said that to her again after this moment he would be lying. With her mood languid from the release he'd given her, her expression without guile and her hair a tangled mass of ebony curls she was truly the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

The sun outside was high in the sky now and the sunlight that streamed in through the gauzy curtains cast it's light on her hair bringing out the mahogany and coal black tones of her currently tangled locks. Her brilliant eyes with their inky lashes were regarding him serenely, she knew that he was taken by her and that seemed to please her greatly. His hands spanned her slim waist and without preamble he pulled her to him and kissed her deeply, trying desperately to put his appreciation of her into one more gesture of physical adoration.

She wound her arms around his neck, her fingers kneading the corded muscles of his neck. He pulled away and she laughed softly, "Why Mister Butler, you do fairly take my breath away."

"Mister Butler is it? I'd think after what just transpired between us we'd be on a first name basis by now."

She stoked his cheek, "As I recall I was calling you by your Christian name not so long ago.'

"Hollering is more like it."

"Was I? I hadn't noticed. But then again I suppose that's to be expected what with someone declaring some rather scandalous sentiments in my ear."

"Scandalous? I was speaking from the heart." He kissed her earlobe before nipping it gently. She shivered and lay back drawing the sheets up to just above her breasts.

Rhett rose from the bed and gathered his clothes together. "Shall I ring for Penny?"

"I suppose," replied Scarlett with a yawn, "I wish I could stay in bed all day, but I don't see much point in that."

"May I ask why not?"

"Because I'd be in this bed alone," she patted the pillow next to her, "Unless you'd like to rejoin me?"

He quirked an eyebrow at her bold invitation before answering, regretfully, 'I'd like nothing better but I need to get dressed and so do you love, the children will be eager to spend time with you when they return."

"You're right, would you ring for Penny before you leave?"

He bowed slightly, she watched the play of his tight abdominal muscles with visable appreciation. "Your wish is my command."

She smirked smugly, "It certainly was."

Scarlett could hear him laughing in his room before he closed the door between the bedrooms.

She clutched the sheets before smothering her own triumphant laughter. It was nearly noon and her husband had just made love to her for what seemed like an eternity. What was that word Doctor Cross had used about waiting for Rosemary, it came to her and she giggled. An aeon. That was the perfectly word for what had just happened. She felt as though she and Rhett had been cloistered in her room for a hundred years. She groaned softly as she stroked her tender breasts. Rhett hadn't hurt her exactly, but it had been a long time since he'd touched her and he'd never before touched her the way he had earlier.

The image of what had happened between them on the beach came to her mind unbidden and she flushed. He had made love to her on the beach and she had revealed in how wild and free they'd been with one another. His kisses on her chilled skin could still be felt, bringing the heat of desire to her skin. He had wanted her enough to take her in the open on a storm drenched beach and then he had tried to dismiss it as an act of celebration at having survived death. That had marred the experience somewhat but this morning had completely erased the pain she'd felt at his callous dismissal of their shared moment of passion.

He loved her. She hugged herself joyfully. He loved her madly and completely. She was finally his wife in the truest sense of the word. Well, very nearly her treacherous mind countered swiftly. Her right hand with its gold wedding band fell to her flat stomach. If only she could give him another child. Perhaps what had just happened between them would lead to the conception of another child.

She sighed at a sudden twinge in her hip. She wasn't sorry that they'd made love but she wished that she had been in tiptop shape. No matter, she was well on the way to recovering. She wondered if her being bedridden upset the children more than they'd let on. She had never been overly comfortable with children, it was going to take a great deal of work on her part to completely win over Ella and Wade, no matter how fond they were of her they still remembered the harsh distant woman that their mother had been in Atlanta.

She glanced down at her stomach again and daydreamed. A baby would be a new chance to get everything right. She no longer owned the mills and frankly the store and the properties she managed could all go hang. She had a fortune in gold in safety deposit boxes in Atlanta. Money was no longer an issue in her life, but whether or not she could bear another child was. She had once thought Melanie was a sentimental fool because of her obsession with having another baby. She had seen it a tragedy that she had died trying to have a baby, no matter how much Melly wanted a baby it wasn't worth dying for. But now Scarlett wasn't completely sure that having another baby like Bonnie wasn't worth a major sacrifice.

She had never had time for her children, each had arrived at the most inconvenient of times in her life and she had not been inclined to tend them. The baby she had lost had been different, that baby had been conceived under a set of circumstances that she could have never foreseen. The baby she had lost had been conceived during a fit of passion that had forever changed how she regarded Rhett. She had wanted the baby desperately.

Rhett had once told her a cat was a better mother than her. In many ways he was right, she had never provided her children with the same type of undeniable unwavering love that she had received from Gerald. From her father she had observed the ultimate example of just how a child should be loved, now she wanted so much to have a second chance to do things right. She had done so many things wrong, desired things that were fleeting and unsubstantial instead of things that would last her a lifetime...family, friends, and love. She wanted a real home, not just an ornate mansion furnished with gaudy knickknacks and silence. She wanted a second chance to redeem herself, in Rhett's eyes, in her own eyes. She knew that under the right circumstances she could love a baby. If they had another child this time their baby would come about the way all babies should, from an act of love between its parents.

How pleased Rhett would be if she gave him another child. A handsome little boy would be ideal, but she would also welcome another little girl even if she would be a living reminder of the vivacious loving daughter she had lost.

A baby, that was the only thing missing from what was rapidly shaping up to be a happy ending.

What a romantic you are, she chided herself but with a brilliant smile. And why shouldn't she smile, for the first time in years everything was as perfect as it could ever be.


	56. Slipping Away

After Penny had finished brushing out her damp, tangled hair Scarlett had asked Penny to call for Rhett to help her into the overstuffed armchair by the French doors that looked out on the piazza.

He had obliged with a smile, thinking she was tired of lying in bed. She was such a blend of contradictions; alluring sensual lover and an eager child who was overjoyed at finally being released from the constraints of bed rest.

He gave himself a cursory look in the mirror, straightening his wing collar and changing the mother of pearl stickpin he wore in his four-in-hand style tie to a flawless emerald that he'd bought just after his return to Charleston. His mouth went down at the corner as he raised an eyebrow at himself in the mirror, amusement eventually shaped his lips in a grin. He had purchased a stickpin because the stone was the same shade as Scarlett's eyes. He'd never stood a chance against Scarlett. When she put her mind to something she generally accomplished it, thank god for her stubborn obstinate nature. She had fought for them and won. They had each taken a leap of faith and he felt surprisingly whole and uninjured. And as for Scarlett…Scarlett was afire with happiness, which in turn made him happy.

After so many false starts, missed signs, and misunderstandings they finally had it all. Rhett reached for his ebony backed brush, a cold hand clutched his heart for an instant as he glanced down at his hand resting lightly on the brush. His wedding ring caught the light and his mouth drew into a tight line. What would his life currently be like if instead of making arrangements for their trip to the Landing next week, he had to arrange to bring her body back to Atlanta for her funeral. He had almost lost her, had come so close. He had been dwelling on that painful what if since February 16th when the doctor that had accompanied him to the cabin where he had left her while he sought out aid had said urgently "Better hurry, she's slipping away."

Slipping away. He had nearly lost her, but never again. During those three days by her side while she lay unconscious he had prayed, though he was a man whose faith had been tested and worn away by tragedy and prayer did not come easily to him. He had asked God to spare her; he had been in his prayers completely honest with both the Lord and himself. If he were to lose her it would destroy him. He could have lived without her but in a world that contained her but a world without Scarlett O'Hara Butler flirting and preening, laughing and scheming? He would have drunk himself into an early grave all the while denying to himself that he was trying to reunite with her in death.

Then God intervened answering his prayers. She not only survived but also was finally willing to admit that she was in love with him. It was a new world as far as he was concerned. The old status quo ante was gone, replaced by a new unexplored country. Scarlett had changed, she had grown up in the last two years, and he was looking forward to spending the rest of his life getting to know her all over again. One thing was certain; life with Scarlett would be anything but predictable.

He opened the door that connected their rooms and stood quietly in the doorway, observing her as she watched the preparations that were being made in her honor on the piazza. Her chin was resting in her cupped hands as she leaned on the arm of her chair, looking for all the world like a child on Christmas morning.

Crossing the room without speaking Rhett leaned forward and brushed a kiss on her temple. "You're beautiful," he whispered in her ear.

She tilted her head to meet his impertinent smile of approval. He seemed amused by the simplicity of her gown as though he had expected to find her in one of the ostentatious frocks he'd banned from pubic airings when she'd first arrived. She could have chosen any one of those gowns and he would have turned a blind eye, no matter how tasteless her choice.

Running her hands lightly over her skirt to smooth away a few faint wrinkles she smiled, her eyes wide with feigned innocence. She knew that the simple gown she had chosen suited her beautifully but she couldn't help but fish for a complement or two. "You are fibbing Rhett Butler, this dress is comfortable but it's very plain. I must look a fright, perhaps I should change?"

He took her hand and raised it to his lips, his lips remained on her skin a moment longer than what would be considered socially acceptable and she flushed lightly with excitement. "Scarlett," he said, "I could care less what you're wearing, you are always beautiful no matter what you wear. More so now that you look happier than I've ever seen you look in all the time I've known you."

She laughed merrily at his observation. "That makes sense, this is the happiest I've ever been."

He moved behind her and began to knead her shoulders and neck gently, his long elegant fingers finding the knots and kinks in her neck. She sighed contently as he worked. "Sally told me to expect her for tea today."

She moaned delicately, stretching her neck slightly she asked absently, "When did you see Sally?"

"When I was on my way to the station, she gave me a lift. A good thing as I was delayed by someone…you may know her."

"Why you cad, you stopped to speak to another woman after you told me you didn't have time for me. I knew it, you can't be trusted," she teased.

He bent forward to kiss the nape of her neck. She shivered elegantly before laughing softly. "Perhaps I can trust you after all," she amended graciously.

He kissed her again, this time on the side of her neck. Then he continued his earlier discourse as though he were completely unaware of how the caress of his lips affected her. "She wanted to know how you're progressing, she's terribly fond of you."

"I'm glad that she likes me, I know she means a great deal to you."

"Sally is one of my oldest friends and she's very well liked in Charleston. I'm glad that you've become close."

"Well she's easy to talk to and she doesn't offer judgment, which is a rare trait."

He continued to rub her shoulders and she closed her eyes, appreciating the warmth of his hands through the thin fabric of her gown. Her mind began to drift, not focusing on any one specific topic but rather a myriad of topics from the important to things of little consequence. It was in this distracted state of mind that the voice of a child cut her to the quick.

"Mother, mother we're home," called a voice from the hallway.

Scarlett's eyes opened swiftly, widening in shock even as her lips formed a single name, "Bonnie?" she whispered, her hands tightening on the chair's arms.

"Ella and Wade must be back," Rhett offered gently. He moved to her side and knelt, taking her trembling hands in his own.

She gave him a slight smile in return. "That's what she yelled when you brought her back from Charleston." She swallowed convulsively before elaborating further,

"She yelled, 'Mother, Mother we're home." She cast her eyes down to their clasped hands and swallowed again, fighting against the tears that threatened to fall. "Oh, Rhett I loved her so much, God forgive me, more than Wade or Ella. I hope she knew just how much."

His face was sad and his voice devoid of all emotion save honesty and regret. "Scarlett, the whole time we were gone she never stopped asking for you. She loved you just as much as me. I know it seemed as though she always preferred my company to yours but while we were away she asked for you constantly. Every time we saw a woman that resembled you she'd ask me if you missed her."

She swallowed the lump that had formed in throat. "What did you tell her?"

"I told her that her mother loved her with all her heart. She bought you several little things on that trip. When we return to Atlanta I'm going to look for them. She meant to give them to you when we returned but after..," he paused searching for the right words before continuing, "after you fell down the stairs she wanted to wait till you were well again. Then by the time you were well it was nearly your birthday and she wanted to wait. Then…" he trailed off, not wanting to say 'and then she died.' It was still hard to speak about Bonnie, even with her mother. It might, with the passage of time, become easier but at present it simply was too painful.

"Mother," Ella burst into the room without knockinging. "Mother, we bought so many things at the bakery. Grandmamma even knew that I like cakes with pink frosting. She bought you a cake and then we went to a store and I got a new doll because all of my favorite dolls are in Atlanta. We had to walk and my feet are tired." The child took a deep breath but before she could begin again Scarlett held up a hand.

Rhett watched curiously expecting Scarlett to reprimand Ella for interrupting their conversation and not knocking before she dismissed the little girl to Penny or his mother's supervision.

Scarlett's face was that of a cameo, pale and beautifully serene. It took all of the composure she could muster but she found that she didn't just have to; she needed to reach out to Ella. Poor Ella suffered the most of her children. She had lost her best friend and Aunt before being sent by her own mother to suffer at Suellen's hands. In Scarlett's estimation it was time to start righting past wrongs.

"Ella, come and give me a kiss."

Ella beamed happily before complying. She stood on tiptoe and gently, mindful of the pain she'd caused her mother earlier, kissed her mother's cheek. "Everyone that stopped to speak to Grandmamma asked about you. Some of them gave me sweets and we saw the harbor and Grandmamma's seamstress gave me a licorice bull's-eye. I like it here, are we going to stay?"

Scarlett laughed brightly, Ella's lighthearted chatter and her simple joy at being reunited with her parents was catching. "We'll see darling. Why don't you run along to your room and change then we'll have tea."

"I don't want tea, may I have hot chocolate?"

"If that's what you'd prefer then you shall have all that you can drink," promised Scarlett, grinning.


	57. Mirror Images

"Aunt Suellen says that teatime is a waste of time. She said that grandmother Ellen never sat down to afternoon tea when she was the mistress of Tara."

Scarlett grimaced. "When mother was at home to guests she did. I think it would be best darling if you tried to not pay to much mind to all the things Aunt Sue said this last year."

"Because she makes up stories? I didn't believe the things she said about you. I told her that she was fibbing and she slapped me but I didn't care because I wasn't gonna let her say anything bad about you mama."

The way her daughter squared her tiny shoulders reminded her of someone familiar but hard to place. Someone strong who held her head high in the face of disaster, but who? Ella's brown eyes regarded her steadily. It came to her in a wave of recognition, the way Ella's spine was straight and her chin was held proud and high, it was the way she looked before the mirror when she needed to draw on the hidden vein of strength within herself.

How many times had she stood before the mirror in Atlanta and Charleston and willed herself to lift her chin and hold on, just hold tight to whatever strength and faith she could rally to pull her through the difficult times?

Scarlett drew her daughter close and before she could try to pick her up, Rhett stopped her; his hand on her arm was gentle, but firm. "Scarlett. Don't push yourself."

"I feel fine, who knows that better than you" she replied with a secretive smile.

He didn't respond instead he bent forward and swept her into his arms. He carried her over to the settee by the fire and sat down, positioning her on his left side with his arm curved around her waist. "Ella, would you like to sit with us." He extended his arm to her and she came to him, settling herself on Rhett's right knee.

Scarlett sighed softly before resting her hand on Ella's knee. She patted it gently before speaking. Self-recrimination was not her strong suit but she knew that an apology was owed to Ella after all she had endured. "Ella, I am so sorry Aunt Sue was cruel to you. I had no idea that she would treat you so harshly. I thought she would take good care of you and Wade. I'm just so upset with her, what could have gotten into her?"

Ella shrugged. To her what had happened at Tara was in the past, the future was far more exciting. There were pink frosted teacakes for teatime and her mother was not dead. All was right in her world. "Wade said that she was just mean to me because she wished I was her little girl instead of yours. But when I asked Aunt Sue that she spanked me."

Shaking her head, Scarlett replied earnestly, "Ella, I promise you, I am never going to leave you at Tara alone with Aunt Sue ever again."

"How come she lives at Tara but you don't? Wade said that you did all the work at Tara when he was little, and Uncle Ashley told Aunt Melly that it was a shame that Scarlett's father didn't make a will 'cause," her face screwed up as she tried to remember the conversation she'd overheard long ago, "because Tara should have gone to Scarlett, and that's you mama. Why didn't your daddy leave Tara just to you?"

It was never easy to speak of the only time her father had ever truly disappointed her, indeed she had often asked herself that very question, why hadn't pa written out a will? If only he had then she wouldn't be currently doing battle with the Church for Careen's share. And even if the archbishop gave in and sold her the share, what then? She would still have to procure Sue's share. That would be a battle too.

Scarlett began reluctantly, how best to explain such a difficult thing to her seven year old eluded her so she just said what was mostly the truth. "It's difficult to explain baby. I had to live in Atlanta when I married your daddy because that's where the store was, you remember the store don't you?"

'Yes. But how come you and Uncle Rhett couldn't live at Tara when you got married?" asked Ella logically.

"Because I had to look after the lumber mills and the store after your daddy died. He left them to me and I wanted to take good care of them so that someday you'd have something to bring to your marriage."

Rhett laughed before tweaking one of Ella's ginger curls. "Although that won't be for years and years."

"Why years and years?" asked Ella giggling.

"You'll have to meet someone you'd like to marry first," replied Scarlett matter of factly.

Ella blushed and giggled harder. "I already did."

"Oh," asked Scarlett with a wink in Rhett's direction, "and just which one of the county bucks has won me puss's heart?" said Scarlett mimicking Gerald's lyrical brogue.

Rhett grinned at Scarlett's mimicry of her father's accent, "Your poor father, you must have led him a merry chase."

"Nonsense," said Scarlett gracing him with a superior smile, "I was the picture of a well behaved young lady."

"Oh?" He smiled knowingly, "Thank God we grow out of childish preoccupations."

Scarlett stuck out her tongue. Ella giggled at her usually serious mother sticking her tongue out at Uncle Rhett.

Mama is a lot more fun here than at home, Ella thought.

"If you're quite finished," chastised Rhett with a grin. "I believe you were about to tell us which of your county beaux you've set your cap for Miss Ella."

"Nobody in the county, I want to marry Beau Wilkes."

Rhett made a small noise and Scarlett, without looking at his face, elbowed him slightly. "Beau Wilkes is it? Beau is a very nice boy but it's a little early to make that sort of decision."

Ella frowned "Beau wrote to me every week while we were at Tara. Wade used to get mad because he thought Beau should write to him more because they are best friends. If he doesn't want to marry me then why would he write me so much?"

Scarlett titled her head thoughtfully. Poor Beau, she'd been terribly remiss when it came to Beau, she'd promised Melly that she would look after Beau as though he were her own. But when she had fled Atlanta in November she hadn't even stopped to tell him good-bye. "What does he write to you about?"

"How much he misses Aunt Melly. I told him that I missed you and Uncle Rhett, but not the same way because you're still alive. He wanted to know if I believe in heaven because he isn't sure if he does, but he is afraid not to."

"And do you?" asked Rhett, his voice was nonchalant but curious.

"Do I what?" Ella asked, as she played with the lace edge of her dress cuffs. Though Ella was slowly becoming able to focus on a specific task or a conversation her attention was still wont to wander if something else caught her interest

"Do you believe in heaven sweetheart," asked Rhett gently.

"Yes," replied Ella, her positive tone left no room for doubt. "When I go to heaven I'll get to see Bonnie and Aunt Melly and I'll meet my father. Aunt Sue had a miniature of him and a photograph. I asked if I could have them and she said 'no because they were all she had left since her sneak of a sister got the real thing'. Did she mean you mama?"

Scarlett snickered briefly at Suellen's unflattering and bitter words. Sue was going to take the indignation of having old maid in britches Frank snatched out from beneath her to the grave. "I suppose she did mean me. I doubt she means Aunt Careen."

Ella's mind leapt to a new subject as eagerly as a frog leaps from one lily pad to the next. "I want to meet Aunt Careen, can I?"

"May you, and of course, she'll be so excited to see you. I've told her all about you and brought her up to date about all of Wade's doings. Aunt Careen knows Wade from when he was younger but I don't' expect he'll really remember her. If you like we'll visit her at the convent sometime soon."

"Can't she come here? Then we could see her sooner."

"I don't think so sweetheart. She's a nun you see and that means she doesn't leave the convent unless it's an emergency. But we can visit her. I've been to the convent for tea many times and your Aunt always asks if I've had any letters from you and Wade."

"Did you get my letters?" asked Ella eagerly clapping her hands. "Oh, I am glad. Uncle Will said he would send them and he didn't tell Aunt Sue because when Wade told her that he had written you a letter she said you'd probably never read it. But Wade said you would."

"I certainly did get them, every one. I read every word of them aloud to anyone who would listen. Isn't that so Rhett?"

Rhett nodded, that was true, several times she had knocked tentatively on the door between their rooms to ask if he wanted to hear the latest letters from the children. In those moments, with her voice low and sweet as she recounted the details the children had thought important enough to put to paper he could pretend; pretend they were still a couple, listening to news from their children who they'd see soon. He fought the urge to ask Ella to excuse them so he could draw Scarlett close to him and just hold her. Realizing mother and daughter were expecting a response he answered with a smile, "Yes, your mother read me every letter."

"Wade wrote you too. He wouldn't let me read his letters. What did his say?"

Scarlett shrugged, her face was sad for a moment before she forced a smile for Ella's benefit. "Oh, this and that. Now, why don't you run along and get dressed for tea. If you go downstairs to the kitchen you can ask Penny to help you."

Ella slid off Rhett's knee. "Yes momma." She was at the door when she turned back "You look very pretty momma."

Those were so close to the last words Bonnie had spoken to her before yelling 'watch me take this one mother.' She felt her noise begin to sting and tears welled in her eyes. She spoke softly, trying to conceal her pain from Ella. "Thank you angel," her voice quavered slightly as she added, "I love you very much."

Ella rolled her eyes comically. "I know that. I love you momma, you too Uncle Rhett." She pulled the door too hard causing it to slam behind her.

In the old days, in the house in Atlanta, she would have been annoyed that Ella had slammed the door but things like that no longer seemed all that important. A cup of milk spilt could be wiped up, a door slammed didn't especially matter the noise faded, for too long she had been short with the children over the most foolish things.

The corner of his mouth went down as he laughed softly. "And you too Uncle Rhett. What a crushing let down."

Rhett ran his hand down her back; the warmth from his hand comforted her immensely. Everything about him comforted her, if only she hadn't rejected him years before she could have drawn on his strength over the years instead of shouldering her burdens alone. If she had only let him comfort her.

Without a word he drew her onto his lap so he could hold her close. She smiled at the way he seemed to be able to sense just what she was thinking. She leaned forward to rest her forehead against his. It was a gesture more intimate than any of the kisses they had shared earlier. A gesture that told him just how comfortable she was growing in his presence. "I love you Uncle Rhett," she replied laughing with a smile that was for him and him alone.


	58. Missives from Atlanta

He moved his own head slightly so he could brush a kiss against her still swollen lips. "I love you, even if you are a brat."

"A brat, why that hurts, truly it does. I am not a brat, I'm just misunderstood" at his look of incredulous amusement she laughed…"oh alright, so what if I am, my husband adores me anyway."

"Adores you? More like is driven to distraction by you."

She laughed as she lightly ran her pointed finger across his lips. "Fiddle dee dee Rhett Butler." Her smile faded and she became pensive. "Poor Ella, I didn't realize how awful things were for her at Tara."

"Honey, you read me every one of her letters, there wasn't anything that I can honestly think of that might have indicated how poorly Suellen was treating her."

"I suppose you're right. At least the children are with me again, with us and that's a relief. These last months were the longest I've ever spent away from them. And poor Beau, he must be so lost without Melly. I hope he's all right. Ashley doesn't mention him too much but then he doesn't..."

"You've heard from Mister Wilkes?" interrupted Rhett, his face wiped clean of expression as he moved away from her to study her face.

She could feel his muscles tense as he shifted beneath her. But it was his cool tone that concerned her. When his voice grew cool and he dismissed a topic as not particularly important that was the complete opposite of what he was in fact thinking and feeling. She spoke carefully, not wanting to appear as though she was concealing something that Rhett apparently felt he should have been apprised of. "Yes, occasionally."

"How occasionally?" his tone betrayed nothing of what he might be thinking and she cursed herself for bringing up Ashley Wilkes during what had been a quiet moment of peace between them.

"Well," she exhaled as she searched for what to say, " he writes to let me know how the houses I'm that are being built on that property Charlie left me are coming, he knows it is my land, what he doesn't know is that I am the one who is building them. He's supplying the lumber. I told you about the way I found to honor Melly's request, that I was building houses and so I bought the lumber from Ashley. And of course Aunt Pitty writes me and Uncle Henry sends me papers pertaining to the store and the properties I rent and the bills from the Peachtree Street and Tara. It all comes in one parcel."

Rhett's eyebrow rose and his lips twisted sardonically. When he spoke his voice was still cool but tempered with something that not anger but certainly he was not pleased with her revelation. "Those parcels you've received weekly since you arrived were from Mister Wilkes?" He chuckled dryly but it was clear that he was not amused, "What is it about the women in this family that inspire weekly missives from the Wilkes men?"

"Our charm and good looks," she said with a wry smile, She wrapped her arms around his neck and when he did not stop her or try to move away she spoke apprehensively. "Are you angry?"

He shrugged. "Should I be?"

She shook her head much like Ella had earlier and he pulled her close once more. She let out the breath she hadn't even known she was holding. "I don't see why you would be. He writes me as a friend and business associate, nothing more."

He nodded placated by her words, "I feel sorry for him."

"You do?" she asked incredulously.

"I do. He's lost everything that he had that made his life after the war bearable. First Miss Melly and the home they had together and then you."

"Me?" she felt moved by the urge to correct his misconception of Ashley's real feelings toward her, "He never truly wanted me, not really. How could he lose me if he never truly had me? Rhett I was so wrong about him, I threw myself at him for naught. He told me once, when he had come home after the war, that he admired my spirit and courage and bravery; that's something a general would tell a brave soldier not something a man who was dreaming about you might say. "

He was moved by her honesty, she was trying so hard to be open and forthcoming that he couldn't add a barbed comment about which of her other attributes Mister Wilkes also admired. He ran his fingers down her cheek and she smiled softly at the return of warmth to his dark eyes. "Of course he dreamt of you, he could allow himself to dream of you when reality became too much to bear. You were one of the few things left from his old life, a flesh and blood reminder of when the only path in his life led toward becoming the master of Twelve Oaks. Now Miss Melly is gone and in a way so are you. For years he could count on your devotion and love but now he must know that you love me, after you left for Charleston he had to have realized where you heart truly was. Why else would you have followed me to Charleston if you didn't love me wholeheartedly?"

She giggled before her lips drew into a purse. "That sounds like a fair estimation of how I felt Mister Butler, why couldn't you be this insightful before I nearly drowned." She laughed before adding teasingly, "If I'd know that all I'd have to do to win you back was nearly drown I'd…"

He moved swiftly, his arms tightening around her waist even as his lips met hers. She cried out briefly, startled by his unexpected embrace but his mouth silenced her and she met his kisses with her own, eager for the sensation of his mouth against hers as his hands pursued their own course, caressing the nape of her neck as he gently drew her head back so he could press his lips to her throat. Her heart was pounding against her ribs and she could feel his hand fumbling with the buttons at the back of her dress.

"Rhett, please, you mustn't. The door isn't locked." His lips moved still further downward till he paused momentarily at the hollow where her throat and shoulder met.

Scarlett squirmed on his lap and he let out a noise between a groan and a laugh.

She heard him murmur, "That didn't stop us earlier," as his lips found hers again.

She rested her hands against his chest and wriggling frantically she was just able to push him away. She was scandalized by his admission; her eyes were wide with dismay. "You didn't lock the door, good God in heaven Rhett, anyone might have walked in."

Laughter rumbled in his broad chest as he tipped her chin up so he could look at her concerned but still beautiful face. "I can only offer this excuse, I was so taken by my wife's charms it completely slipped my mind till well after the fact, this very minute in fact."

She frowned thoughtfully, "Next time we'll have to be more careful."

Rhett threw back his head and roared with laughter. The exact words she had just spoken registered fully in her mind. As he laughed a ruddy flush colored her cheeks crimson with embarrassment. "Already planning for next time Mrs. Butler, my but you are eager." He kissed her forehead affectionately before commenting on her still apparent discomfort. "I trust then I might be once more welcome to spend my nights in my wife's bed."

She nodded shyly. "If you'd like."

He answered simply with an earnest smile and an eager light in his eyes, "I most certainly would."

"What will we tell your mother if she asks about the new sleeping arrangements?"

"I don't imagine she'll ask. If you say nothing I don't know if she'll realize that we've decided to share a bed once more."

"The servants will know and once they realize you're no longer sleeping in your bed it will only be a matter of time till your mother knows. She may not ask you, but she'll have no qualms about asking me."

"Tell her I finally stopped snoring."

"I don't think she'll believe that's the only reason Rhett."

He pinched her chin playfully. "I'm sure my mother is astute enough to realize my snores were not the only reason we had separate rooms…and separate beds."

Her face became solemn as she tried to apologize for her previous actions. "That was such a mistake Rhett, telling you I no longer wanted you to share my bed. I don't know how I could have believe that was a good idea, in fact as soon as you left the room I knew I was wrong...I only wish I had the courage to go to you then and apologize."

"I wouldn't have made it easy for you. You wounded my heart, my pride and my ego. But I know how, or rather who moved you to such a step. Mister Wilkes believed that you could never possibly care for me, let alone love me. I suppose that's why he could bear to see you married to Frank. He could see you as another man's wife, but not as my willing bed partner." He smiled but his smile was hard and more than a little smug. "I wonder if he really does know that you love me? Perhaps he is still harboring hope that you'll return to Atlanta needing comfort."

"Ashley knew that I loved you long before I left for Charleston…I told him the night Melly died that I knew he only loved me for my body, not my mind. I told him that I loved you, that I had for years but I'd been too stupid to see it," she confessed reluctantly.

"How did he take that revelation?"

"At first he didn't say a thing but he brought it up later, just as I was preparing to leave for Charleston. He wanted to know where I was going and I told him that I was going to Charleston to try and win you back, if you'd have me. He asked me if I was sure that I was doing the right thing and I told him I'd never been so sure of anything in my entire life."

"And he said?" Rhett asked, his curiosity aroused. That would have been an interesting conversation to be a party to. Scarlett telling the man whom she had pursued from the age of fifteen that another man, her own husband, had won her heart and she wasn't even sure if he wanted it.

"He wished us well. He apologized for being in the way through so much of our marriage. I think he hoped you'd take me back, probably to relieve some of the guilt he felt. He also told me that he thought you did love me still. He wished me happiness with you if that's where I thought I would find happiness."

"I must say I'm surprised that Ashley Wilkes believed you would find happiness with me."

"Ashley isn't a fool Rhett, he's a dreamer but that doesn't mean he can't see what's in front of his nose. He could see that I belong with you. I can't understand why I couldn't see it sooner. I just wish…" She smiled determinedly, "No. I'm not going to feel sorry for myself and wish that I'd done things differently. There's no use in that."

"I'm glad that you finally see that you belong with me."

"But do you belong with me?" she asked coquettishly.

He laughed before running his hand through his jet-black hair. "God help me, I do."

"Are you sorry you married me?" she asked peering up at his from under her lowered lashes.

"What a question, no. I am not sorry I married you. I am sorry that I didn't properly court you after Frank died, perhaps you'd have seen how I really felt about you if I had romanced you properly instead of taking advantage of your momentary leave of your senses."

"That doesn't matter now. I know exactly how you feel about me now, and that's what matters. I've learned to let the past go because if you don't then there isn't anywhere else you can go."

"Would you teach me?" he asked, his swarthy face was solemn, and his voice deep with meaning.

She nodded before resting her head against his chest. His arms tightened around her, embracing her. "It's easier than you'd think, just think about the future and the past doesn't matter so much."

She felt his lips on the top of her head. "When did you become so wise," he whispered.

"When I discovered that the only place I could truly be happy in was the future."

"With me?"

"I could only hope that I would be with you. I hoped you would be in my future. But if you hadn't taken me back, if you'd divorced me, I would have collected my children from Tara and built a life for us. I love you so deeply that I can't find the words that say what I feel for you but I wouldn't have curled up and died without you. I would have found a way without you; though it would have killed a part of me. I would have woken up each morning wishing you were beside me. I would have longed for your support every time something terrible happened. I would have never looked at the stars again without wondering if you were looking up too, if you were thinking about me. Missing me just as I was missing you."

"Did you look up at the stars often, when you were in Atlanta?"

"No, not in Atlanta. When I was at Tara, when Mammy was dying. When she'd sleep I'd stand out on the porch and just look up. I'd wonder if you were somewhere wondering how I was, wondering if I still missed you, if I still loved you. Sometime I could swear I heard you call my name and I'd look up the drive half expecting you to be riding up, calling me. But you weren't there and eventually I came to realize that I was just hearing what it was that I wanted to hear."

He rested his chin on the top of her head. "When you'd hear me call your name…" He trailed off, unsure of what he wanted to ask preciously. He was not a superstitious man, he didn't believe in ghosts or supernatural happenings but the truth was there were many nights that he had woken himself from dreams in which she figured prominently because he had called out her name. On the nights that he dreamed about her falling down the staircase he would scream her name as he watched her small body tumble over and over down the steep crimson carpeted staircase of the Peachtree Street house.

"Hmm," she murmured softly, "What did you want to ask?"

What was it he wanted to ask, when you'd hear me call your name did I sound worried, upset? How could he ask her such a thing when in truth it sounded a little ridiculous, even to him? The obvious answer was that she had missed him and conjured up the sound of his voice to comfort hers in a time when she needed comfort desperately. "Nothing, nothing at all."


	59. A smile like yours

She was unaware of his attention as she chatted with Sally Brewton who had, true to her earlier warning, appeared just in time to take tea with the Butler family. He had been loath to share Scarlett with anyone else after what had happened earlier, but he knew that she was looking forward to spending time with the children in the fresh air and he couldn't deny her simple wish for his own desire.

One afternoon during a day that seemed like it had happened a lifetime ago a jaded, world-weary man of thirty-three had watched a fresh faced girl of perhaps sixteen giggle and flirt with every man she came in contact with all to conceal the fact her so called love was about to marry another woman. He hadn't known at the time what the exact motivation for her coquettish behavior had been but he'd known that there had to be more to it then met the eye.

In his mind's eye he could see her, could still recall every last detail right down to the delicate peach coral necklace she'd been wearing around her slender throat. She had been wearing a white dress with a velvet green sash and tiny ruffles around her pale shapely shoulders. With a keen eye he noted that her dress, while lovely, was not considered a morning dress. How had she slipped out of her home in a dress that was slightly inappropriate?

A large leghorn hat was perched coquettishly atop her head; it's emerald green ribbon was tied in a wide bow beneath her pointed chin. Streaming out from beneath the hat was waves of thick black hair that bounced and swayed with every step she took as she climbed the staircase with a saucy looking companion. As they ascended the stairs through the balusters he caught a glimpse of green slippers and a trim ankle.

He had known many women in many ways in his life, but the sight of that slender ankle had caught him and ridiculous as it seemed to him she caught his attention in that moment and though he'd struggled against an a attraction that had fluctuated from adoration to obsession to hatred before coming full circle to adoration once more. She had caught his attention and it had been on her ever since.

She had been so beautiful in such an unexpected way that he found himself watching her with an openly admiring gaze. She'd noticed him and he knew that when she inclined her head toward her companion he was the topic of their whispered conversation.

Pausing on the grand staircase's winder step she had glanced down at him one last time before disappearing from his sight, her eyebrows slanted downward as she regarded him curiously. No doubt, at her tender age, he was the first man she'd ever seen who wasn't received.

At twenty-eight she was still so beautiful that he found it difficult to believe that thirteen years had passed since the barbeque at Twelve Oaks. After all that had happened between them he had finally won her. Rhett Butler, cynic and realist, a man who had spent the years after nineteen roaming the world without a care and without ties to anyone or anywhere had lost his heart and soul one afternoon to a pretty stranger who was young enough to be his daughter.

He knew from a long and often impassioned association that beneath her delicate appearance she possessed a will of iron; forged by disappointment, tragedy and adversity. He knew that she didn't need him to protect her; she was more than capable of doing a damn fine job of taking care of herself. But he wanted to shield her from further disappointment.

If it were up to him, for as long as he lived, she would never want for anything if it were in his power to give it to her. He loved her, he always had and finally he had come to terms with what he had always known in his heart; that he would love her till the day he died.

Today was a day that he would hold in his heart so that on the rare nights that they were separated he could summon up an image of her that was clearer and more brilliant than any painted miniature. He had a storehouse of images of her hoarded away in his mind. The first time he saw her that day at the barbeque, the evening of the Atlanta Bazaar, the fall afternoon in the carriage when he'd nearly told her of his love for her; he'd clung to those moments like a lifeline tossed to a man slipping beneath the waves of a storm tossed sea.

There were other moments, less frequently examined but just as, if not more, precious despite the pain associated with those images. That afternoon in Frank Kennedy's store two weeks after he'd been released from jail, he had gone to her the moment he'd been freed but it had been too late, she was already another man's wife. The look on her face when he'd returned from England with Bonnie. She had been carrying another child, his child.

The bold paisley pattern of her wrapper had made her look so pale but her eyes and smile had been warm because she had been overjoyed that her husband and daughter had come home. She had been so happy, how could he have ignored the light in her eyes and the tentative smile had been on her lips. She had loved him in that brief moment before they quarreled. If they hadn't fought she might have even told him that she was falling in love with him.

At the very bottom of the pile was one bittersweet image, the way she had looked when she had called him darling and then finally confessed to him how much she loved him. Why hadn't he looked her in the eye and told her that he loved her then? He wanted to stay with her, to help her though Melanie Wilkes' funeral but the need to escape from that cursed house and all of its painful memories won out over all else.

Now he would add how she looked today, her children seated on one side of her and Sally on the other chatting merrily. His mother smiling at Scarlett and Rosemary fondly and his sister laughing at something clever Wade had said about Dickens. She was a petite queen holding court in a simple white lawn dress with am emerald green sash tied around her small waist. She had chosen well, her dress was elegant in its stark simplicity but still fully accentuated the curves he had explored earlier in the day. His eyes strayed to her lips, they were still flushed and slightly swollen from the languid kisses they had shared while wrapped in one another's arms in the privacy of her bedroom after they had finished making love.

She smiled suddenly at something Ella said and a smile found itself on his face. If only Bonnie and the baby she'd lost were present then life would be perfect, but that could not be. He was no fool; though the life they had won was not perfect it was more than he'd ever dreamed of having in November just before she arrived. She'd changed and forced him to as well.

Sally caught his eye and nodded her approval before allowing her right eye to close for an instant in an inconspicuous wink. "So Scarlett how is the puppy?"

"Mother, you have a puppy?" chirped Ella nervously tossing her ginger curls about, as she looked left and right seeking the puppy. Ella had always been timid around dogs after Wade's sheepdog had unintentionally nipped her.

Scarlett brushed the hair off of Ella's forehead. "Ella, please don't interrupt when adults are speaking," she corrected gently. Ella nodded, not offended or upset by her mother's reprimand when it came in such a gentle voice. She smiled apologetically at Sally; her gapped tooth grin brought a smile to Sally's face.

"But yes, I do have a puppy, Sally gave him to me. His name is Toby, he's a foxhound and he is friendly and I know he'll just adore you and Wade."

"Does he bite?" asked Ella suspiciously.

"Not even a nip."

"I'm glad you like him Scarlett, Rhett wasn't sure if you were as fond of him as I just knew you had to be."

"I adore him," she turned toward Rhett and smiled though her confusion was clearly apparent. "I thought you knew how much I like Toby?" she asked.

Sally spoke before Rhett had a chance. "I suspect Rhett just wasn't sure because he's more of a cat person."

Scarlett laughed brightly and dismissed Sally's cryptic comment with a wave of her hand. "I'm not even going to dignify that with a surprised response. I suspect this is some sort of insiders joke between you two and I wouldn't be a bit surprised if I figure in it."

"Clever girl," commented Miss Eleanor as she helped herself to another teacake.

"I try," said Scarlett with a smile. "Although wisdom comes with experience."

"How does it feel to be out of bed Scarlett?" asked Rosemary.

Scarlett studied Rosemary for a minute. The girl colored slightly and refused to meet her eye. Something was clearly the matter and she resolved to browbeat Rosemary till she found out what was making her so jumpy. It just wasn't like the normally cool and composed Rosemary to avoid eye contact and blush uncontrollably. There had to be a reason and most likely it had something to do with Jason Cross, after all what else could be putting Rosemary on edge besides Doctor Cross?

"It feels absolutely divine. I think if I had spent another hour in that bed I would have screamed."

Rosemary had lifted her coffee cup to her mouth in an effort to cloak her emotions but Scarlett's words hit close to the very thing she was trying to forget, the sight of her brother making love to his wife who had been crying out his name so loud she was screaming it. Rosemary choked and began to cough in a desperate effort to draw air into her lungs.

Rhett slapped her on the back lightly. "Rosemary, are you alright?"

She nodded and wiped her mouth with her napkin. "Fine," she said, her voice rasping slightly.

"What's gotten into you, you've been odd ever since we sat down?" asked Rhett.

"I'm fine, really."

"You aren't fine, really, but we'll discuss it later."

"There's nothing to discuss."

"That remains to be seen," replied Rhett smartly. He stood and placed his napkin before bowing. "Ladies, if you'll excuse me I want to check in at the mines this afternoon before close of business. Wade, you're welcome to come if you like, that is if it's alright with your mother."

Scarlett pursed her lips playfully. "Hmm, I suppose. I was hoping to have Wade all to myself but if you want to steal him away then I'll just have to completely monopolize all of his time after supper." She laughed gaily "Oh, go on both of you. Have a good time, but would you bring me back something?"

Rhett lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it lightly. "Furs, jewelry, another box of chocolates?"

"The books for last quarter."

He shook his head, his face solemn and his voice suddenly grave. "No."

"I need them."

"You need to relax and pouring over those books won't help."

"Fine," she replied without arguing. It was too nice a day to argue, there was plenty of time to go over the ledgers and she really only wanted the most current books to try and draw an estimate of how much money Ross had siphoned off of Rhett's accounts.

"No argument?"

"None."

"I assume you're saving it for later?"

She laughed without a hint of anger. "Oh my, you've guessed."

"I know you all too well."

"So you say, but you wait Rhett Butler, I may just have a secret or two up my sleeve," Scarlett countered with a small content smile that bespoke shared secrets and future surprises.


	60. Those who do not learn from history

**Because tomorrow is another day and I am afraid that Rachiel is going to beat me to death I swear after this chapter it's finally another day...so it only took me what 400 pages to get through 6 days ...crap this is never gonna end**

Miss Eleanor laughed. "You two are awful. I'm afraid I have to leave as well; Scarlett, I promised your Aunts that I'd stop and update them on your progress."

Scarlett grimaced delicately. "Aren't the aunts in Savannah visiting Grandfather Robiliard? His birthday is next week, they told me they were going," she added hopefully. Perhaps Miss Eleanor was mistaken and the Aunts, upon receiving the news she was out of danger, had gone to visit Grandfather Robiliard.

Miss Eleanor smiled brightly at how concerned Eulaine and Pauline had been over their missing niece and how greatly relieved they must be now that she had begun to recover. "They canceled their trip when you and Rhett went missing. They been terribly concerned about you, would you like me to invite them to breakfast tomorrow? I'm sure they'd be pleased to see how you are for themselves instead of just receiving updates."

Scarlett groaned lightly. Great balls of fire, she thought irritably, they're only going to go on about how unladylike I was to go sailing and how I wouldn't be in the fix I am in now if I'd simply behaved in the first place. "That would be lovely," she said aloud, forcing a smile, "I'm sure they'll be glad to visit with the children." Changing the subject she addressed her son. "Wade, why don't you run and get your coat now so you don't keep Uncle Rhett waiting."

Wade grinned and after rising from the table gave his mother a quick but affectionate peck on the check. "Yes mother. Thank you." He was so excited that he rushed off through the door at the far end of the piazza without properly excusing himself to the rest of the ladies present.

Ella watched her brother with a frown. Why had Uncle Rhett only asked Wade? Why didn't he invite the both of them? She could not recall Uncle Rhett inviting only one of the children somewhere except for the time he left with Bonnie. Was that how things were going to be in spite of how nice her mother was being? Was Uncle Rhett going to openly favor Wade and leave her behind? But, if mother told him to take her then maybe Uncle Rhett would bring her too.

"I want to go too momma," announced Ella pouting slightly.

"Ella, the mines are no place for a young lady," said Scarlett. "The mines are awfully dirty and besides Uncle Rhett and Wade are going to spend a little time getting reacquainted. But you can meet Toby and perhaps play with him in the yard, if you like."

"I don't wanna play with a dog, I wanna go with Uncle Rhett," she muttered under her breath, her feet swinging impatiently.

"It's want to Ella, not wanna and I don't want you to go Ella."

"Don't care," muttered Ella under her breath before she began to sniffle.

"Well, I do care Ella, perhaps one Sunday Uncle Rhett can take us down there to show us around, but I'm afraid that you can't go with Wade and Uncle Rhett just now."

"That's not fair. You aren't fair! I wanna go and you're just saying no because you're being mean."

"Ella! That simply isn't true. I'm sorry you feel that way," said Scarlett as she tried to keep a lid on her normally gunpowder temper. She didn't condone the way Ella was speaking to her but if she lost her temper then she'd be right back to where she'd started from with Ella.

"You're mean to me, just like Aunt Sue was, you...you hate me too" wailed Ella.

After the things that Ella had said about how cruel Sue had been Scarlett was appalled to be compared to her. Her face paled swiftly and she tried to rise from her seat but her hip and leg wouldn't allow for quick movements. She had taken on too much too soon and her hip had been throbbing dully for nearly an hour. "Ella," she pleaded softly, "I could never hate you…" Scarlett reached her hand out but Ella continued to speak out, months of hurt and sadness came to the surface in a stinging tirade that was so unexpected when coming from the usually vapid and sweet Ella.

"They why didn't you come and get me an' Wade before you came here? You didn't miss us, you went to parties and hada good time and I didn't," Ella sobbed hysterically.

"Ella, I missed you very much., please don't be angry..."Scarlett said.

Ell a shook her head frantically as she snuffed loudly. She loved her mother desperately and that's what had hurt the most. When her aunt had been cruel to her she'd clung to the hope that her mother would come and rescue her just like Cinderella's fairy godmother. But days turned into weeks and then weeks turned into months as time continued it's dogged march forward. and each day ended in another disappointment. Wade had told her to be strong that mother had promised she'd come for them in February. Her brother had reminded her again and again, mother never broke a promise. But then Aunt Sue told them that their mother was sick or had died and she wasn't going to come for them. When the nice woman who introduced herself as Emily had come Ella had assumed the worst. But Emily had sworn that she had just seen Scarlett the other day and she was rapidly recovering. Ella didn't want to be angry with her mother, but she was just seven years old and she'd lost too many people to take the threat of desertion lightly. Her mother had been so glad to see her but now she refused to intervene on her behalf with Uncle Rhett and so once again Ella felt betrayed.

"You didn't come and you promised and you did not come like you promised..."

"Ella, stop it." Rhett's voice cut through her tantrum instantly. Ella's eyes widened as she took a breath. She knew that Uncle Rhett was displeased and no doubt mother would be furious with her over her bout of bad behavior. Ella blanched as she turned timid guilty eyes toward Uncle Rhett. Uncle Rhett didn't stand for whining and carrying on she suddenly recalled. He never yelled, but he never allowed children to carry on. He had been the voice of male authority in Ella's life for as long as she could recall and his was a voice to be obeyed.

Rhett spoke to his mother, his voice apologetic at the scene that had just transpired. "Ladies, would you excuse us. Mother, would you see Sally out? I think Scarlett, Ella, and I need to have a talk."

Eleanor nodded. "Shall I ask Wade to wait downstairs for you?"

"Thank you mother," replied Rhett.

"Sally," Scarlett lifted her hands helpless to find words to excuse Ella's burst of anger or her part in its origins.

Sally dismissed her attempt at an explanation with a jerk of her sharp chin. "Scarlett, I had to leave anyway. I want to stop by Emily's and see what kept her. I'll stop in tomorrow afternoon."

"I'll look forward to that Sally. Tell Emily I asked after her."

"Of course", promised Sally.

Sally, Miss Eleanor, and Rosemary departed leaving mother, father, and a now subdued and vaguely trembling child alone.

Rhett sat in Sally's recently vacated seat. He took Scarlett's hand and squeezed it supportively. "Ella, what was that all about?"

Ella looked down at her feet and refused to meet Rhett's eyes.

"Ella?" asked Scarlett softly. "Were you fibbing before, maybe just a little? You are angry with me aren't you?"

"Yes," whispered the little girl softly.

"I'm sorry. I know that doesn't fix everything but I am sorry that I sent you to Aunt Sue instead of taking you to Charleston with me. I didn't know that she'd behave the way she did. I thought that you'd be happier among children your own age."

"They was mean to me all the time."

Scarlett didn't correct Ella's grammatical error, instead she simply offered a sympathetic, "I know. Now. If'd I only realized that you weren't simply homesick I'd have come in a wink."

Ella lifted her chin and asked the question that had been on her mind since Uncle Rhett had invited Wade to spend the afternoon with him. "Is Uncle Rhett only going to take Wade with him when he goes places?"

"No, of course not," said Rhett. "I love you and Wade just the same. Sometimes I'll take you places that Wade wouldn't particularly enjoy and sometimes I'll take him places that you honestly wouldn't like. The mines just happen to be something that I think might interest Wade but I don't think you'd like them."

"Mother had mills that she liked, is a mine like a mill?"

"Not particularly," replied Rhett. "The mines are dirty and sometimes very loud. They don't smell very pleasant and I honestly think you'd have more fun here with your mother."

Ella nodded, she wasn't partial to loud noises, they often made her jump. "Why didn't you take me here when you took Bonnie? I wanted to go too, but you didn't take me. Did you love Bonnie better than me? Aunt Sue said you did because she was really your daughter and I'm a," her face screwed up for an instant as she tried to recall her aunt's words, "a box."

"A box honey? Are you sure that's what she said?" asked Rhett with a smile.

"Um," Ella frowned thoughtfully, "No, she said I'm a package, me and Wade are part of a package and you had to take it or leave it. And she said then you left it."

"I'm going to wring her neck," cried Scarlett passionately. "What a vicious thing to say."

Rhett came to Ella's chair and picked her up. She went reluctantly with a sniffle before she rested her curly head on his chest. "Ella, I love you. I love your brother, and" he met Scarlett's worried green eyes with his own slightly disconcerted gaze and smiled, "I love your mother. I don't love more or less; maybe that's something your aunt does, but I don't. I love my family and I don't have an order of least to greatest when it comes to loving people. Do you understand?"

"So you loved me and Bonnie the same?" asked Ella her voice tinged with disbelief.

"Yes," he replied vehemently. He hugged her tightly and as Scarlett watched them her throat constricted painfully. Poor Ella. She had never had much of a mother and the only father she had ever had known had to be shared with a younger sister who had been the center of Rhett's world. No wonder Ella had doubts as to her own importance.

Scarlett spoke hesitantly. She searched her mind, looking for some sort of motherly gesture but what could she do that might show Ella that she was loved. Something came to her and though it would be painful to be reminded once more of Bonnie she knew something that would make Ella happy. "Ella, why don't you and I go in my room? I have to lie down for a while, but we could take a nap together."

Rhett regarded her with admiration in his dark eyes. With a smile that was tinged with grief he bounced Ella gently in his arms. "Perhaps there will even be a treat for you when you wake up."

Ella clapped her hands and Rhett put her down so she could bounce up and down excitedly. "Like me and Bonnie use to have?"

"Just like," returned Scarlett with a fragile smile. "Just like," she repeated softly.


	61. Morpheus's embrace

Rhett shut the door between their separate rooms. Scarlett sat propped up against the pillows watching him with a guarded smile. Her hair hung in loose thick waves, the ends curling haphazardly over her breasts. The covers were drawn up around her waist. Upon hearing him shut the paneled door that separated the rooms she lifted her eyes from the slim blue volume that she had been reading. Scarlett laid the book face down in her lap and turned her attention toward her husband.

She had chosen her night attire carefully this evening. Penny had brought out nightgowns and negligees from her numerous trunks before she found just what she had been looking for. Scarlett's red lips had curved into a lazy smile of triumph when Penny has opened the last trunk and found the nightgown she had been searching for. She knew that Rhett would expect her to be attired in something decadent and seductive to drive home the point that he desired her, something she'd been sure of all along though he had repeatedly denied it.

Knowing what he expected pleased her. It was new and thrilling to be able to anticipate what Rhett might expect. It was even more fun to completely buck his expectations and keep him off kilter. The gown she had settled on was not what he would be expecting to find her wearing. It was a simple nightgown fashioned from handkerchief linen, with short gathered and ruffled cap sleeves. Delicate pleats accented the center front. The eyelet-trimmed neckline was simply adorned with wheat colored ribbon woven in and out of the eyelet. The wheat ribbon contrasted beautifully with her pale slightly rose hued colored décolletage.

"Good evening Mrs. Butler," said Rhett gently. It was both amusing and poignant, only this afternoon he made love to her and now they were suddenly diffident with one another.

That afternoon with the same ivory covers pooled around her waist she had been a courtesan; a woman of flawless beauty and in his case, unrivaled appeal. But now with her hair neatly brushed and worn loose and a book on her lap she looked young and fragile; more like a girl awaiting a bedtime story then the passionate woman she'd been this afternoon. If he were to take her at face value he'd think her a fragile innocent, but the still slightly sore claw marks on his back betrayed the illusion of a delicate maiden.

"Good evening Mister Butler," responded Scarlett shyly with an assumption of dignified aloofness. Her body committed treason against her, the eager tilt of her chin and the desire that shone in her emerald eyes showed him precisely what was on her mind, him.

He measured her in a careless way, his eyebrow rising in clear appraisal of her form and face. She met his gaze boldly and a slight flush colored her cheeks an attractive shade of pink. There was nearly no sign now of the woman who had begged him for pleasure hours before.

He was surprised by her nightgown. It wasn't what he expected and he suspected she knew that. She had known he expected to find her in a fragile lace creation that would be guaranteed to drive him to lust. So she decided on a simple gown that left a great deal to his imagination.

Casting her face downward toward her lap she peered up at him through her sooty thick lashes as she took her bottom lips between her small white teeth. It was easy to see that she would begin to retreat, coyly and delicately, as he pursued, ever ready to reverse the game should he turn standoffish. She was blatantly apparent in her gestures and expressions, life between them had been far too tense and serious for the bulk of their marriage, now she wanted to play, to tease; to seduce and be seduced.

His lips curved into an admiring smile. She was something to behold, his exquisitely beautiful wife. Scarlett was a blend of bold originality and extraordinary bravery. She had taken him on and reached out to find love; the vastness of that enterprise alone was singularly impressive.

In addition to those fine qualities Scarlett also possessed an often unconsciously seductive nature. She was a practiced flirt and could be consciously seductive when she was set on bringing a man to heel, but even more alluring were the times that she seduced without knowing that that was precisely what she was doing. The tilt of her head, the curve of her neck as she gazed up at him on a crowded dance floor, the way she molded her body just so when she would embrace him; Scarlett was naturally sensuous and he was looking forward to allowing nature to take it's course.

"What are you reading?" he asked nonchalantly, pretending as though he hadn't been mentally undressing her since the moment he'd stepped foot into her room.

Her voice was soft and full of promise as she replied demurely, "Rosemary's book, the one with the poems."

Rhett laughed, "If you are still reading it, alone, without my sister wielding a switch it must be the best work of literature ever penned."

He sat in the wingback chair by the fireplace and withdrew his cigar case form his dressing gown pocket. Striking a match on the fireplace he sat for a moment as he inhaled the first drag. "Would you read to me?"

"Why?" she queried, suspicious of his motives. Was he going to mock her schoolgirl like recitation of poetry? She wasn't like Rosemary who could pour emotion into every syllable she spoke while reciting poetry.

He idly exhaled a stream of smoke and watched it curl in wispy tendrils as it dispersed before answering "Honestly, because I love the sound of your voice."

"What an old softie you're turning out to be Rhett Butler," Scarlett remarked in a superior tone."

"When you aren't raising an almighty peel over my head about something or other or carping in fishwife tones," he finished with a wicked grin.

She smiled while shrugging delicately. "Take me as you find me."

"Wiser words my dear, were never spoken."

She cleared her throat and began to read, her voice at first was husky and hesitant; it was a voice that was completely self conscious and mindful of mispronunciations. But as she progressed her voice gained feeling and though it was not the voice of a thespian it was richer somehow because the words had meaning to the person reciting the verses.

"Little lady of my heart!  
Just a little longer,  
Love me: we will pass and part,  
Ere this love grow stronger.

I have loved thee, Child! too well,  
To do aught but leave thee:  
Nay! my lips should never tell  
Any tale, to grieve thee.

Little lady of my heart!  
Just a little longer,  
I may love thee: we will part,  
Ere my love grow stronger.

Soon thou leavest fairy-land;  
Darker grow thy tresses:  
Soon no more of hand in hand;  
Soon no more caresses!

Little lady of my heart!  
Just a little longer,  
Be a child forever: then, we will part,  
Ere this love grow stronger."

She blinked back tears and gave him a wobbly smile. "I can't honestly say that I would seek out more poetry on my own but this book is wonderful."

"I'm glad you're enjoying it." He tossed the cigar end into the ash dish on the fireplace mantel. "Wade seemed to be interested in the mines. I may take him with me from time to time, if you don't have any objections."

"No, none that comes to mind. Did you get a chance to speak with him about…" she trailed off and for a lack of one specific topic chose to go with the all encompassing, "well everything? Us, I mean."

"No. I thought it best to allow him a chance to settle in before discussing my desertion and subsequent return to the bosom of our family." Rhett's voice was harsh with self-recrimination. His face had fallen into the heavy lines that had been nearly smoothed away since they'd reconciled. His tanned face was grave as he stood from his chair and untied the belt of his robe. "When do you imagine the right moment to explain about how I nearly divorced my wife and abandoned my family will present itself?

Scarlett spoke softly, trying to sooth his guilt at the way he had left without first seeing the children to explain or at the very least tell them goodbye. "Darling, perhaps he doesn't even realize we were separated?"

"Scarlett, don't be so naive. Your sister made quite sure the children had a fairly vivid picture painted for them of how things stood between us."

"All of this over that old maid in britches. Frank's been dead for nearly 9 years. You'd think Sue could move past what I did, or at the very least you'd think she'd have the nerve to take me to task instead of terrorizing Ella."

He nodded in agreement before changing the subject. If they continued to discuss Sue Ellen Scarlett would be in a temper in no time. "My sentiments exactly, but onto lighter topics, will Toby be bedding down with us tonight?"

Scarlett laughed appreciatively. Toby had been a nearly constant fixture in Scarlett's room and by her feet since the night he'd arrived. His absence was now plainly obvious. "That furry traitor has abandoned me for Ella."

Rhett draped his dressing gown over a chair. "How did she react to that?"

"She was a little nervous around him at first. When we came in to nap after you and Wade left Toby jumped up on the bed and did his level best to be the very definition of charm. Ella let Penny put Toby's basket in her room and I'm willing to bet that he's curled up at the foot of her bed as we speak."

"Poor Scarlett. Abandoned by man's best friend it would seem."

She flicked her tongue across her lips nervously. She had a sneaking suspicion and the surest way to get an answer would be asking Rhett straightforwardly. "Rhett, are you stalling?"

"Excuse me." His voice was bland reviling nothing about his present state of mind.

Her lips twisted into a small but visible smirk. Finally after thirteen years she was finally able to pick up on the things concealed beneath the surface of Rhett's outward appearance. "You are, aren't you? You've smoked; you're making small talk. You even had me recite poetry. You were mighty eager to get into my bed this afternoon and now you seem to be in search of any thing you can do to stay up and about."

He laughed dryly. He made his way to the French doors and jiggled the handle lightly to make sure it was locked before turning back to face the bed and it's occupant with her searching green eyes. "That's preposterous."

Her black brow lifted slightly as she gestured toward what had once been "his" side of their bed. She had always occupied the left side and he the right. On their first night together they had each been secretly but pleasantly surprised to find that. To Rhett it seemed proof of the obvious; they complimented each other. To Scarlett it was a blessing. She could never fall asleep on the right side of the bed and had had to bully Frank into switching sides with her, as he also preferred the left side.

"Then stop pacing about and get into bed, unless you're nervous," she added, challenging him with a smirk that spoke volumes as to her suspicions.

He sat on the side of the bed, his back to her, facing toward the French doors. "Nervous? Why would I be nervous about sleeping in the same bed as my own wife? Why would I have some residual feelings of anger at being callously banished from my wife's bed so that she could honor a pact with a man that lusted after her in his heart and supposedly cared for her? He was willing to destroy his beloved's marriage rather than have her sleep in the same bed as her husband. Why would I find myself hesitant at sharing a bed that I've been absent from for five years?"

She was quiet for a time before saying in a husky pained voice. "It sounds as though Ella isn't the only one that bears a grudge over my past behavior."

He turned toward her but made no move to lie down. "What happened between us this afternoon was shockingly enough much easier to embrace than something so mundane as us, as husband and wife, sharing a marital bed."

Her chest tightened but she felt honor bound by her earlier promise to give him the time he needed to heal. Her voice quavered for an instant before she found the strength to continue "Do you not want to sleep here with me tonight? If it's too soon then maybe you could just stay till I fall asleep?"

A tear slid from the corner of her eye and she could feel it trace down her cheek till it settled at the corner of her mouth. She could see his eyes dart down as they followed the path of that solitary tear. Before another could fall Rhett lay down next to her and held her to his chest.

"Don't cry Scarlett, please don't," he whispered hoarsely. "I want to sleep here with you tonight, every night if you'll have me. I'm dwelling on things that have little if anything to do with the way things stand now. I'm sorry."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and he rested his cheek against hers reviling in the smoothness of her skin against his own flesh. "You didn't answer my question, are you angry?"

Drawing her close he laid them down. She fitted herself into the crook of his arm and he attempted to give words to the complex emotions that had taken years to develop. "I know we promised that we would finally start to share our feelings with one another but this is too much to soon. I want to trust you, but it's still difficult to not conceal my true self from you."

"Do you love me? Really and truly or are you just happy because you finally got something you wanted for such a long time."

"I love you. That's the problem Scarlett; I love you because loving you comes naturally to me. I love you with my whole heart and I have for a long time, but I've never really trusted you. My loving you that was nearly instantaneous, but trusting you is going to come with time through close association and intimacy."

"Rhett?"

"Yes?"

"I trust you. I don't know why exactly, but I do. I know that I have let you down many times over the years but I want us to be happy, together. I'm afraid that we'll make the same mistakes or worse ones, but I love you so much that I just want you, us. I want us to have something more than I ever thought possible." She rolled on her side with her back facing him.

Rhett lightly dragged his fingertips down the curve of her back. Life was admittedly easier in some respects when they had been at constant war with one another. He felt as though he was baring his heart to her and the thought that they would only hurt each other once more was unbearable.

Kissing the back of her neck he spoke softly, "I've no doubts that if we make a commitment to one another we can save our marriage. I've been as much to blame as you, if not more for the state of our marriage. We have to take care to remember that this time around there are dozens of fault lines that can't take on as much stress as they did before. We've mended for the most part the greater part of what was broken but there'll always be weak spots just waiting to be pushed to the breaking point."

She narrowed her eyes slightly though he could not see her face. It was a moment before she came to a conclusion. "So you love me, you just can't trust me." He voice was soft as took a shuddering breath.

He flinched but did not retreat from the accuracy of her deduction. "In the bluntest of terms, yes."

"But one day you expect you'll trust me?"

"Completely. It's a process that's already started I promise you."

She didn't reply and he assumed she was put out by his honesty when it came to his lack of trust but he soon gathered from her deep rhythmic breathing that she was fast asleep, nestled against his side with her head resting on his shoulder.

He brushed her hair from her brow and leaning forward he brushed a kiss on her temple before getting up from the bed to blow out the lamp. Settling himself in bed next to her he curved his body protectively around her lithe form.

Rhett carefully moved closer to her till he could bury his face in her fragrant hair just as he had once done when they'd been newlyweds almost 7 years before. Her hair smelled delicious and rapturously he breathed in her fragrance. The scent was so familiar and long cherished that his throat constricted painfully; lilac and the barest traces of Florida water and roses. How many nights had he just held her and fallen asleep with her silken hair brushing his face? How ever many nights they were not nearly numerous enough.

Love did not blind him to her numerous faults. She was a liar and a masterful manipulator. She was selfish, obstinate, unwilling the vast majority of the time to see any point of view but her own. She could turn mean faster than any woman he'd ever know then in the next moment become warm and welcoming. She was often curt and had shifting morals that she shaped to fit particular situations.

But she was also brave and unrelenting in the pursuit of anything she'd set her heart on. Her devotion to her family and friends knew no bounds. If Scarlett O'Hara, Butler his mind added with deep satisfaction, decided that you were worthy of her loyalty then she would extend herself on your behalf time and time again. She was not noble in of herself but she had a nobility of character when it came to her responsibilities. She never turned away from her burdens, instead she'd shoulder them, alone if need be.

She stirred in her sleep and he gently wrapped his arm around her. His hand curved over her abdomen and he allowed himself to consider that he might have once more gotten her with child. A baby would be a part of her that he would share with her for all time. He wanted to hold another one of their children in his arms and plan a future of love and adoration, of parties and privilege.

She was still weak and needed time to heal. Even once she was healed he wasn't entirely sure she could successfully carry a child. Her body had been battered and nearly broken first by the fall in Atlanta and her miscarriage then by their near drowning. He had wanted to withdraw from her earlier when they'd made love because no matter how badly he wanted a child he wasn't willing to lose her to get one.

"Rhett?" she murmured sleepily.

"What is it sweetheart?" he replied, his voice pitched low so as not to startle her in case she was more asleep than awake.

"Where are we?" she asked, sounding slightly confused.

Not sure as to what sort of an answer she was seeking he answered her as succinctly as possible. "In bed."

"Together?"

He laughed softly; his breath against the back of her neck sent a shiver through her body. "Stranger things have been known to happen."

He ran his hand up and down her stomach, stroking her gently till she moaned softly with happiness at the tenderness of his touch. "Are you cold?"

"Not as long as you're here with me."

"Where I belong."

She snuggled closer to him, her back against his chest, his arms were encircling her body and she began to fall back to sleep.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered more to herself then him.

"For what?" he asked kissing the nape of her neck again.

"Being a fool," she replied before yawning.

"You were in good company love."

She only nodded and soon her body was loose limbed and heavy as she fell back to sleep.

He smiled wryly. During the afternoon and for most of the evening he'd been fantasizing about the enthusiastic welcome his wife would give him to commemorate the occasion of him returning to their marital bed. Instead they had bickered before she'd fallen asleep in his arms.

He had wanted to make love to her but he wasn't disappointed. How could he be disappointed, she'd fallen asleep but she had done so while in his arms? He had her in his arms again and it was too late for her to change her mind now. He would never allow her to bar him from their bed again.

There were confessions that wanted to make themselves known about what he had done during the time they had been apart but they would keep, forever if necessary.

XVXVXVVXVXVXVXXVVXVXVXVXVXVXVXVXVXVXXVVXVXVXVXVXVXVX


	62. Morning becomes Scarlett

**The chapter that comes after this is l o n g, I know you all can't wait**

The reflected glare of the light of the rising sun off of the mirror above Scarlett's dressing table woke Rhett just before seven the next morning. It hadn't been a dream or a drunken bout of wishful thinking; his wife was lying next to him, snoring lightly. In the course of the night she had shifted till she was sleeping on her stomach. Her face was turned toward his and he wondered if she had been observing him while he'd been sleeping.

Easing himself gingerly from the bed he was extremely cautious in his movements so as not to wake her. She still looked tired and fragile although the color had returned to her wan face. In another week or two she would, barring any complications, look just as healthy and lovely as she had the night of the Saint Cecilia ball.

She had been so stunning that night, attired in a cream and dark claret colored dress; like a gown made of Tudor roses, he had thought at the time. She had looked so simply stunning in her dress that he had wanted nothing more than to take it off of her.

He grinned impertinently, he felt more like a new bridegroom instead of a husband of nearly seven years, and he found that all he wanted was to be closeted in his room with his wife for the foreseeable future.

With that on his mind Rhett rose reluctantly and moved toward his bedroom door to dress for the day.

Pausing in the doorway between their rooms he turned back and stood for an indeterminable amount of time watching her sleep. She was resting so peacefully now, a direct contrast to the way she'd thrashed about in the hospital bed two weeks before. Her soft lips and rich ebony hair sorely tempted him. If only her aunts weren't expected to breakfast with them he would have sent Penny down to his mother to inform her that they were sleeping in…well sleeping wasn't quite where his thought lie but that would have been between him and Scarlett.

He spared her one last glance that was filled with such tenderness than even he was surprised at the depth of feeling that was still apparent in the strong rugged plans of his face when he positioned himself before the washbasin in his room to begin shaving.

As he lathered his face he let his mind wander to the afternoon he'd proposed to her, he had told her a bold faced lie. Told her that he didn't love her, told her that God would have to help the man who truly loved her. The irony wasn't lost on him as he drew the blade of his straight razor down his cheek. In the end, despite his best efforts to the contrary, he was the man who truly loved her. God help him.

At least they were on equal footing in that respect. She had confessed her love for him; in words, deeds, and actions she'd proven just how much she loved him. He laughed shortly as he splashed water on his face to wash away the last lingering flecks of shaving soap.

She loved him, and for that he thanked God. He was not overly religious, to please his mother he had attended services with her at Saint Michael's every week since he'd returned to Charleston but it had been to maintain appearances. This Sunday he knew when he was on his knees after having received the host he would not be pretending to silently pray. He had so much to be thankful for, he had been approaching a crossroads in his life and in the short span of two weeks he had found himself on the path he'd dreamed of treading for so long.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Miss Eleanor fastened an oval cameo brooch at her throat after putting away her ivory comb and heavy silver brush. Pauline and Eleanor would arrive for breakfast in a little over and hour and Eleanor wanted to make sure the table was laid and that there were fresh flowers. If the bouquet Scarlett had given her was too droopy to be salvaged Penny could nip down to the King Street to replace it before Scarlett needed her.

If need be Rosemary could help Scarlett dress…or Rhett, thought Miss Eleanor with a knowing smile. Lord how wicked to think such a thing with nary a blush in sight, she thought.

Rhett had slept in Scarlett's room last night. Manigo had knocked on her bedroom door at midnight to ask if he should retire for the evening, as Mister Rhett hadn't left word as to when he'd be returning. Miss Eleanor had told him that Rhett hadn't gone out, to her knowledge, to which Manigo had replied his bed was still made and he wasn't anywhere in the house. But after Miss Eleanor had sent him to the stable where he'd found Rhett's horse still in its stall she'd deduced there was one place in the house that Rhett could be that Manigo would have never thought to check, Scarlett's bedroom.

Rhett and Scarlett had been estranged long before Rhett had returned to Charleston. Even before Bonnie's passing it seemed her son and daughter in law hadn't shared a room for years.

She had heard that particularly disheartening piece of gossip when she'd visited Rhett in Atlanta after Scarlett's miscarriage. She'd hoped against all evidence to the contrary that though they clearly had his and hers bedrooms they still at least occasionally shared the same bed. But when Scarlett had arrived in Charleston Rhett had made it clear that he would not be sharing a room with his wife.

She turned her chin up scornfully. He had given her a flimsy excuse, some sort of nonsense about his snoring disturbing Scarlett. As though he could lie to her. Her son might posses one of the most envied poker faces in the south but she was his mother. She knew him, his facial expressions or lack thereof when he was concealing something told her everything she needed to know. Besides his obvious discomfort in telling her such an obvious falsehood were the two main glaring inconsistencies in Rhett's fish tale. One, she had never heard Rhett snore, ever. Not even as a small boy. And two, she had seen Scarlett doze off in a parlor chair and a stampede of wild horses wouldn't have woken her.

Snoring indeed, thought Eleanor disdainfully. Several times she had been tempted to ask her son what had caused him to stop sharing a bed with Scarlett or vice versa, but she had resisted the urge to meddle. They were adults and it was up to them to act like it.

Now there was finally a truce between them and the terms of the ceasefire had obviously included an invitation for Rhett to share a bed with his wife again.

Opening the top drawer of her bureau, Miss Eleanor removed the Ambrotype of Bonnie that Rhett had had taken by George Cook at his studio when they had visited Charleston. The little girl had been caught in a moment of quiet contemplation; her head was titled down while she studied her china doll. It was such a real moment that Mister Cook had captured. There was no artifice in Bonnie's expression. She was not forever in a carefully executed pose for posterity. She was simply a child caring for a doll.

Eleanor had been so delighted by the photograph that she had had it tinted with chalks before sealing it under a piece of glass. Once the Ambrotype had occupied a place of honor in the direct center of her bureau but since Rhett's return she had hid it away so as not to cause Rhett more pain by being confronted by his daughter's image.

With the tip of her pinkie she traced Bonnie's curls before placing the Ambrotype reverently into the drawer. Scarlett had told her that she would give Rhett ten children if he wanted them, if only he'd let her back into his heart. A baby would be a blessing, but could Scarlett carry a child after everything that had transpired? Rhett had so loved Bonnie and Scarlett would do anything to please him these days, but Miss Eleanor was positive that the idea that Scarlett was risking her life would drive Rhett to distraction.

Perhaps after Pauline and Eulaine left she could speak with Rhett about seeking a doctor's opinion on Scarlett's health before they attempted to conceive another child. It would be embarrassing to openly address the subject with Rhett but he was so caught up in a state of romantic euphoria that she was afraid he might not realize the dangers in Scarlett attempting to carry a child.

Doctor Bastin would no doubt be able to render an opinion. Or he could recommend another physician who could be consulted, because she would be damned, yes damned she reiterated firmly to herself, before she'd suggest to Rhett that he consult Jason Cross on anything further having to do with Scarlett.

Yesterday had clinched it. Jason Cross had worn out his welcome in her home. As soon as Scarlett was up and about she would insist that Doctor Bastin pay a call.

Straightening her bureau top and clearing it of a few stray hairpins Miss Eleanor reflected on the events of the previous day and Jason Cross's impromptu visits. Supposedly he stopped by unannounced to check on Scarlett, but his familiarity with her was unseemly, somehow. It was hard to pinpoint how precisely. He had an aura of aloof correctness that made one feel low and common for suspecting him to be capable of wrongdoing.

However, since their confrontation the previous day Eleanor had done something a gently breed southern lady did not traditionally do. She had steeled herself against a man's carefully constructed public persona to cut below its surface. Jason Cross was obviously interested in Scarlett in a way that just stretched the bounds of what was appropriate. He also had some sort of tendre for Rosemary.

And that knowledge was also weighing heavily on her mind. She could not think what had gotten into scholarly, sturdy, dependable Rosemary. Rosemary had never before expressed an interested in suitors and beaus and Eleanor had resigned herself to the fact that her daughter was likely to remain a spinster for the rest of her life. But now she was aflutter every time Jason Cross glanced her way. Eleanor, to her dismay, had already observed Jason Cross escorting Rosemary back from their excursion to the market and that was cause enough for immediate concern. It wasn't that Rosemary had done anything that could be considered socially inappropriate, but if she was given enough time she was bound to find herself in a situation that would infuriate Rhett.

Rhett had wanted to send Rosemary on an abbreviated version of the grande tour. Initially Eleanor had refused, saying that it was impossible for several reasons including the fact that Rosemary would need a chaperone of impeachable character, as she was a young, unmarried woman. Now with the current situation that was developing it seemed wise to shelve her earlier objections. Rosemary would be sent to visit Butler relations in England. After that perhaps one of her cousins could escort her for a tour of Continental Europe.

At this point, she thought grimly, she would agree to nearly anything to get Rosemary on the other side of the Atlantic, it seemed the best and wisest course of action. The further Rosemary was from Jason Cross, the better it would be for all concerned.

Rosemary would be resistant, of course. She might have wanted desperately to visit Europe previous to Jason Cross showing an interest in her, but now…now she was so focused on winning his affections that it wouldn't matter if she were offered a trip to the moon, she'd refuse in order to remain near Jason Cross.

It wasn't forever but Rosemary had to go abroad, the sooner the better. Rhett would no doubt be suspicious as to what precisely had changed her mind, but Eleanor didn't care. Poor Scarlett would be so glum at being separated from Rosemary. The two had become close and it would be lonely for Scarlett without Rosemary.

Wade and Ella's arrival would distract Scarlett and building up her strength so that she could walk again was another task she would be focusing her mind on. Scarlett had several endeavors with which she could occupy her time.

Anyway she couldn't allow herself to dwell on Scarlett's loss of her current confidant and companion. Rosemary was courting danger and as a mother it was Eleanor's responsibility to stop her… before it was too late.


	63. Family ties

The Aunts arrived at 8 am sharp. Eleanor met them at the door herself only to find her two friends in rare form. Pauline swept into the house, her deep amethyst hued bombazine skirt rustling harshly as if trying to covey the wearer's indignation. Pauline trailed in behind her elder sister. She was a petite, bright eyed, nervous natured woman whose personality was often overwhelmed by her forceful older sister. 

Eleanor had originally though that they would all have a lovely family breakfast in honor of the children's arrival and Scarlett's recovery and her partial emancipation from bed rest. She had thought the sisters would be eager to see how their great niece and nephew were. She thought they would all share in the close intimacy and joy that came of being a family.

Never for an instant had Eleanor imagined that she would be almost immediately hit with a barrage of questions about Scarlett ranging from why was her recovery progressing so slowly to whatever had gotten into Scarlett in the first place; sailing in their opinions was not something a well brought up young woman did.

"Please," said Eleanor quickly seizing on a momentary lapse in the conversation, "Why don't we make ourselves comfortable in the dinning room while we wait for the others? I heard Ella a little while ago and I'm sure Wade and Rosemary will be down shortly." She purposely left Scarlett and Rhett off the list because she wasn't completely sure when they would be down and she had no intention of intruding on them, especially if Pauline and Eulalie were going to insist on being so combative.

Eulalie sniffed dryly before taking a seat at the dinning room table. Breakfast was to be served in the dining room at the enormous Chippendale dinning table that Rhett had bought for Eleanor from Bonham's during a trip to London the year before. It had cost a fortune to transport the table and it's twelve elaborately carved chairs from the famed auction house to Charleston but, in Rhett's estimation, the cost was a small inconvenience in light of the joyous smile that had appeared on Eleanor's face when the table had arrived. Eleanor had once owned a similar dinning set that had been lost during the fire that had destroyed most of the East wing of the Landing during it's occupation by Yankee forces in 1863.

Eleanor so seldom had an opportunity to use the dinning room and it's massive table. Before Scarlett's arrival it was usually just herself and Rosemary for dinner. Rhett sometimes joined them but he was often at the Landing or the mine office, or just out so it had seemed pointless to have the large table set for just two. But with the arrival of first Scarlett and then the children the once small household had swelled considerably. There was no longer enough room for everyone at the parson's table in the breakfast room so the dinning room table could at last be utilized.

Eleanor sat and Pauline seated herself next to her sister. They exchanged looks of mutual agreement. Pauline, as the elder of the two, would speak first.

After she had smoothed her rustling skirts about her and situated herself in her chair, Pauline began. "I was telling sister just yesterday that I do not know where Scarlett got her willful streak from." Pauline withdrew her handkerchief from her cuff and toyed with it for a moment. "No idea what so ever," she reiterated irritably.

The words tumbled from Eulalie's lips as she hurried to support her sister's words. "And I told sister, clearly it is not a trait inherited from the Robiliards. Obviously, if there was any tainted blood it was Mister O'Hara's. Is that not what I said sister?" asked Eulalie.

Pauline nodded emphatically, her gray curls quivering, as she spoke her mind on the matter. "To the very word. Not that Mister O'Hara wasn't a fine man," she added reluctantly in a voice that clearly conveyed her opinion on the misalliance between her youngest sister and the man she'd married, "but he was an immigrant after all which is not to say that that is something to be ashamed of but he was not our kind." She gestured absently with her thin hand for added emphasis, "Mister O'Hara was not at all in the same social class as our dear Ellen, God rest her soul."

"God rest her soul," echoed Eulalie.

"Scarlett's father was a planter wasn't he?" inquired Eleanor innocently knowing that to be so. "He must have been quite a thaumatourgos to come to America and acquire a plantation and a fortune." Casually, so as not to alert the sisters as to what she was truly curious about she asked offhandedly, "Was you father fond of him?"

It was Pauline that took it upon herself to answer Eleanor's query. "As a man he was fond of him, Mister O'Hara could hold his liqueur and play cards, as a gentleman should, but honestly he was no gentleman, no matter how hard he might try to emulate one. The language he would use, and the singing, good lord above us Eulalie, do you remember those awful folksy things he'd sing. About a girl in a cart or some such nonsense. And there was one night when my husband and I were staying with father, he took my Carey to some sort of Irish Roughnecks Social club and they came home…" She lowered her voice dramatically, "Quite inebriated."

"Father would have never given him a moment's consideration as a husband for Ellen, but then after what happened with…" Eulalie trailed off glancing at Pauline. Her sister's lips had drawn into a puckered scowl, warning her that some topics should best remain untouched upon. "If Ellen hadn't said what she did to father then he would have never allowed them to marry," said Eulalie. Her eyes became slightly blurred by tears, "Ellen had a certain force of spirit that on the rare occasions she chose to exert it was insurmountable. She would have her way and there was no nay saying her," added Eulalie in a low but admiring voice.

"What could your sister have said that would convince your father to let her marry a man that he would under normal circumstances find unsuitable?" asked Eleanor. Her curiosity was peaked by the evasive way Pauline and Eulalie continued to refer to Mister O'Hara's unsuitability. The Pierre Robiliard she had known in her youth would have never allowed his pet to marry a man of low birth without an incredibly good reason.

Eulalie withdrew her handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed her eyes softly. "Ellen was so beautiful, she was father's favorite. Pauline and I knew that he loved her best, but truly we never were jealous of that because we loved her so much. She was the youngest and after mother died we both showered her with attention. We gave in to any request, any whim; no matter how fanciful. Father was not an indulgent man but even he almost never refused her anything…anything that is except for our cousin Philippe."

Eulalie ignored the small hiss of breath that escaped her older sister's lips at the mere mention of their long dead cousin's name. She was tired of her sister trying to constantly govern her words. Before Carey's death she and her sister had maintained their separate households, but after the death of Pauline's husband and their mutual decline in financial security they had set up housekeeping together. It hadn't been long before they'd fallen into the roles that they had occupied years before. Pauline became the domineering autocratic she had been during their youth in Savannah and Eulalie, in the interest of maintaining harmony, acceding to her elder sister.

With a small shrug of her slightly concaved shoulders Eulalie continued even as Pauline's features became stormy with disapproval. "If only Father had reconsidered, I've always believed that Philippe was just sowing his wild oats, in time perhaps he would have come to see the wisdom of settling down. Ellen was in love with him, she'd pinned all of her hopes on him. He was so well… he was so wild and a philander."

"He was a libertine," said Pauline her voice trembled with revulsion at discussing their long dead scandalous relation. "And you forget sister it wasn't his behavior that father found unsuitable."

"I didn't forget why father didn't approve of Philippe."

"Well now, don't keep me in suspense, do tell," asked Eleanor. "There must have been some extreme circumstances for your father to stand in the way of his daughter marrying a man of background and family standing that was equal to her own."

"He was from a branch of the family that only owned their name, their family coffers were quite empty. Philippe was born a Chalice but his father passed when he was, what was it Pauline, a year old?"

"Two yeas old," corrected Pauline. "Philippe was just two when his father, who was our second cousin, died. Eleanor you met Henri Philippe that summer in Savannah, if your recall."

"Perhaps, he was terribly handsome and tall?" mused Eleanor as she attempted to put a face to the man Pauline was describing.

"Very handsome, he was terribly dashing," said Pauline. "When Henri Philippe died his cousin, who was our first cousin, Jean-Baptiste Robiliard married Henri Philippe's widow, Anna-Sophia. Jean adopted Philippe and had the boy's name legally changed to Robiliard but father always turned his nose up at any mention of Philippe as a suitor for Ellen. Whether or not he bore the Robiliard name, in father's eyes Philippe was a Chalice, he was a poor relation and not good enough for Ellen."

"But she wanted him nevertheless," said Eulalie sadly. "In spite of the fact that he was reckless and wild. Father drove him off to New Orleans where he died in a bar room fight over some nonsensical insult. A priest wrote Ellen all about it. Well, she read that letter and then she told father that she would never forgive him. Father was furious at her but then he began to worry just as Pauline and I did. Ellen didn't eat; she almost never slept. She would just stay up in her room all day or if our Mammy could convince her to leave the house she would go to Saint Lawrence's to light candles for the repose of Philippe's soul. Father was afraid she'd die of a broken heart. Then just as he'd begun to lose hope Mister O'Hara asked for Ellen's hand. Father meant to refuse him but Ellen said if she couldn't marry Mister O'Hara then she'd become a bride of Christ instead."

"Naturally father was aghast. He was a Protestant and though he had allowed mother to raise us Catholic the idea of a daughter of his becoming a nun was unthinkable. He conceded and allowed Ellen to marry Gerald O'Hara despite the fact he was a foreigner with no family connections. In father's estimation any husband was better for Ellen than a convent. I begged him to reconsider, but father was too soft hearted when it came to Ellen."

"She even took Mammy with her," said Pauline. "I was heartbroken to see her go, so was Eulalie, but she insisted. Ellen was the youngest and our pet, I suppose we all over indulged her, as people are wont to do in such situations. But none of us supported her marriage to Mister O'Hara. And obviously with good reason, Suellen married a cracker, Careen became a nun because she refused to stop dwelling on some dead boy who undoubtedly saw her more as a younger sister than ladylove. And then there's Scarlett."

It was clear from Pauline superior tone that whatever she had to say about Scarlett was far from praise.

"What about Scarlett?" asked Eleanor benignly without revealing the mother lion that she could feel trying to unsheathe it's sharp claws.

What was it about Scarlett that so rankled her two dearest friends, wondered Eleanor. She could ascertain from their demeanors when they discussed Scarlett that they were not overly fond of her, nor were they proud to own her as a relation.

In their defense Eleanor could concede that Scarlett was sometimes joyously unrestrained and often less than intuitive when it came to what was acceptable in the eyes of the far more exacting doyennes of Charleston society. Sometimes Eleanor suspected that Scarlett knew the rules but she chose to disregard them if she thought she could without fear of chastisement like an overly exuberant child pushing undefined parental boundaries.

From the moment she had arrived at the house on the Battery Scarlett had presented her best possible self to Miss Eleanor. She had been charming and as gay as she could make her self be in Eleanor's company. When Rhett had treated her with polite detachment she had bravely kept her chin up and never retorted with hot, angry words. She had conducted herself, for the better part of her visit, as a lady should; with grace, beauty, and charm. In Eleanor's estimation she had pulled Rhett back from the precipice over which he had been dangerously leaning. She had turned Rosemary from a messy ink stained scholar into a better rounded young woman who was concerned with both her studies and appearance. She had proven herself to be undaunted by her current lack of mobility. In all she had completely won over Eleanor earning her full and unwavering loyalty.

Without any sense of the waiting jaws of the lioness Eulalie spoke off handily. "Scarlett is just too much her father's daughter for her own good."

Pauline was not as inclined to cloak Scarlett's sins as she perceived them as her far more charitable sister was. "Scarlett is an embarrassment to the Robiliard name, quite honestly. She's ill mannered, entirely too outspoken, and that's not the least of it. I need not mention how she has unwomanly way she's engaged in trade over the years. Toiling in that store like a common clerk. And she owns a saloon or at the very least rents to the man who does. Ellen wouldn't be able to hold up her head if she only knew the sorts of things Scarlett's engaged in."

"Don't forget the lumber mills," chirped Eulalie helpfully. "Sister is right, Ellen would be so ashamed of Scarlett's hoyden behavior over the last several years. I sometimes thank the good Lord that she isn't here to see the way Scarlett carries on.

Eleanor stared at the Robiliard sisters with a mixture of surprise and disappointment. They were so focused on the things that Scarlett had done over the years that might reflect on them in a negative light because they were her aunts that they seemed to be all but blind to the fact that Scarlett had provided most if not all of their financial support since the end of the war. In turn they had shared what they could with the Butler's till Stephen's death allowed Rhett to step in and rescue them from the life of penury they'd been reduced to.

She frowned thoughtfully, had she ever thanked Scarlett for the indirect way she'd saved them from starvation. No, because it had never occurred to her the lengths that Scarlett had gone to in order to be able to write her aunts a monthly check. Working in her husband's store and the lumber mills, renting property to a saloon, and probably dozens of other things that Pauline and Eulalie didn't even know about.

Scarlett had done all those things because she had no other option if she wished to be able to support her family. Scarlett's reputation had suffered the slings and arrows of censure because of her enterprising nature and willingness to work and for that she was condemned and disgraced.

How very unfair that was, decided Eleanor, just because Scarlett was a woman it was wrong for her to be a success. If there had never been a war and the plantations had continued to flourish Scarlett would have one day been expected to be the mistress of a plantation. She would have been called on to run the house and countless other responsibilities, if it was acceptable to manage a plantation then why was it so awful, really, if Scarlett ran a store and owned property? It wasn't so awful, she concluded. In fact, she was proud to have such a smart daughter in law, even if that was wrong in the eyes of her friends.

"Poor things," she begun demurely, her ire cloaked with gentle words, "How awful for you both to have a relation like Scarlett. Why you both would have been better off starving in the street then talking a penny from her. I imagine, in retrospect, you both wish you'd told her that you couldn't accept her tainted money."

"What are you trying to say Eleanor?" asked Pauline defensively. "It was awful to have to take money from Scarlett."

Eulalie nodded emphatically, "Simply dreadful."

"But we would have been homeless had we not, and that would have only hurt Scarlett's reputation even more if it were said that she allowed her mother's sisters to die of hunger without a roof over their heads."

Eleanor nodded sympathetically. "Of course people would have said the most terrible things, not that you would have had to listen…what with being cold in the grave after dying in the streets."

"Eleanor, what's gotten into you? Why it seems as though you're trying to be rude. But surely that's impossible." Pauline lips twisted into a pout. "We didn't want to take charity from anyone, but there was nothing else for it."

Their conversation was cut short by the appearance of Rhett and the children in the doorway to the dinning room.

Miss Eleanor stood and came to greet her step-grandchildren. "Good morning children, did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you Miss Eleanor," replied Wade before bowing in an imitation of his stepfather.

"Good morning grandmamma," said Ella. "Guess where Toby slept last night, right on my bed."

"Good morning darling," said Eleanor to Rhett. "How is Scarlett this morning?" asked Eleanor.

"Quite well, but I thought I would let her sleep in for a bit. Penny is with her now."

Wade's eyes flicked to the two women who were still seated at the table. Deciding to take the intuitive he greeted them politely, "Good morning ladies, how do you do?"

Pauline stood. "We are your great aunts. I am your great aunt Pauline and this," she said gesturing at her still seated sister, "is your great aunt Eulalie. Wade, I remember when your mother came to stay with me after your father passed. You were only a few months old but one could already tell what a handsome young man you would one day become. And this must be Ella Lorena. You've grown so much since the last time we saw you when we came to Atlanta…" she paused, suddenly reluctant to continue. The last time they'd seen Wade and Ella was when the sisters had traveled to Atlanta for Bonnie's funeral. "Your mother has told us a great deal about you Ella Lorena," she added to cover her momentary hesitation.

Ella frowned and tugged Rhett's hand urgently. He bent from the waist, inclining his dark head toward her pursed lips.

"Uncle Rhett, I don't want to be called Ella Lorena, nobody calls me that because I don't like it. How come she's calling me that?" she said in what amounted to a whisper that carried to the ears of everyone present.

Rhett fought to suppress laughter at her petulant whispers. She reminded him of Scarlett with her pursed red lips and indignant tone and he found that he couldn't help but laugh. "Miss Pauline, we don't use Ella's full name, we only call her Ella."

Eulalie rose to join her sister. "Children, Captain Butler, should be seen and not heard. You should not allow Ella Lorena to be so forward now, it will only fuel disconcertion later."

"My name is Ella, so there," rebutted Ella before sticking her tongue out at her aunts in a fairly flawless imitation of the way Scarlett had teased Rhett the afternoon before.

"Ella," cried Wade without giving his stepfather a chance to correct or discipline Ella, "You apologize this instant."

"Why, shouldn't they apologize? They are calling me by the wrong name."

Wade shook his head, "Whether you think Aunt Eulalie called you by the wrong name or not it isn't polite to stick out your tongue. It's certainly not very ladylike."

"Mother did just yesterday. If mother can, why can't I? Isn't mother ladylike."

"I'm sorry Uncle Rhett, I don't know what's gotten in to her…" Wade turned his attention back to his younger sister. "Ella, mother would never stick her tongue out at anyone."

"She did too," declared Ella indignantly, "She stuck it out at Uncle Rhett when we were talking, didn't she Uncle Rhett?"

Rhett looked from Ella's waiting countenance to the speculative faces of Scarlett's aunts. The appearance of Cealey, one of the two housemaids that he had hired when he first purchased the house on the battery saved him from having to answer.

"Cap'n Butler, Miss Scarlett wants to know when are you comin' up to bring her down to breakfast? She says if she's got to wait much longer she's gonna expire of hunga."

"That seems too concise to be a Scarlett authored complaint, did she say anything else?"

"Yes Cap'n, she said if all that weren't clear enough she's starvin' to death."

"Consistency, thy name is Scarlett," muttered Rhett under his breath with a smile. "Cealey, tell her I will be up directly."

Cealey curtsied, "Yes sir, Cap'n Butler."

"Mother…" begun Rhett.

"Go upstairs Rhett I'll sort things out here."


	64. She will be loved

**Sorry this was a long time in coming, my daughter is in the hospital again and as a result what I was writing for this chapter was replaced by the content found here. A happy holiday to all my readers, may you find joy and hope and love this holiday season. **

**And the greatest of these is LOVE**

p.s there were few lines in SCARLETT I did like, I used one. : D

She was bent over an a piece of white muslin in an embroidery hoop. The folds of the brilliant white fabric spilling into her lap contrasted elegantly with the royal blue moiré silk dress she was wearing.

The rich rippled patterns of the glistening iridescently hued silk were accented by thin white satin cording that had been sewn into rectangles at spaced intervals around the hem. Toping each rectangle was satin white work that had been cunningly fashioned to form the outline of a Rose of Province. The design which would have been overwhelming and garish had it completely adorned the dress had been used sparingly, spaced out in several measured intervals around the circumference of the hem.

The dress was not something he imagined Scarlett selecting herself. It's narrow lace trimmed cuffs, discreet V- shaped collar and unusual coloring suited Scarlett's soft ivory and coral complexion perfectly. He wondered what had moved her to purchase such a frock. It was a far cry from the vast majority of ostentatious showy dresses she had brought with her to Charleston. But it suited her perfectly without detracting from her just as a well designed gold setting would set off a flawless emerald.

Her enjoyed observing her, catching her unaware so to speak. When she was alone Scarlett was entirely comfortable in her own skin. In the company of others she became a hybrid of her natural self coupled with a public persona that was aloof and often she came across as defensive and ill at ease. But while she thought herself to be alone she hummed a tune softly as she sewed. Delicately, with a focus that he had seldom seen her apply to needlework, she filled in the center of a flower she had finished outlining in a pale barely lavender tinted floss.

"You are so beautiful, while we were apart I told myself that you couldn't possibly be as beautiful as I remember you being. Then when you came to Charleston and were in front of me once more I could see that you really are as beautiful in the flesh as you are in my memories." He said gently, in a subdued voice so as not to startle her.

He had caught her in a private moment of contemplation. Scarlett looked up from the piece of embroidery in her hands with eyes that were wide and soft with a emotion he couldn't place. "That's a lie, I think." She pressed her lips together for an instant as she swallowed reflectively. "When I first arrived you wanted to strangle me. I thought you would throw me out of the house into the storm that night."

He smiled at her, his grin heavy with implied self mockery. "I was angry because you outmaneuvered me. I could hold my position easily so long as you were in another state. With you in the same house, I knew that my chances of turning my back on you forever were nearly nonexistent. I told my sister repeatedly the sooner you left the better. I knew I couldn't hold out against you and your charms forever."

She neatly anchored her needle in the cloth and laid it aside. Her lips twisted into a teasing facsimile of a pained grimace. The dancing light in her glittering eyes brought to mind rain washed emeralds. Perfect and brillant and absolutly priceless in both their rarity and beauty. "You might have given me some sort of clue," she said a note of chastisement crept into her voice as she continued, "I was rapidly losing hope. I almost gave up and I considered returning to Atlanta early."

"You, give up? Never could I imagine you giving up on something you had your heart set on. Not even if it took you a millennia to attain it." The teasing note in his voice abated. His next words were filled with a mixture that was equal parts admiration and condemnation. "My darling, by virtue of dogged persistence and sheer force of will when you've decide to go after something or someone you hang on as long as you can, with your unsheathed claws dug in so deep that they can't be dislodged without leaving lacerations."

"That's a very left-handed complement, if that's even what it was." she remarked, her words touched by a hint of acid.

He was nonplussed by her annoyance. "I'd say that it was somewhere between an observation and a complement. I admire how tenacious you can be even in the face of defeat. But it's also a character flaw when you can't see clearly enough when to hold on versus when to cut your losses and move on."

"That flaw, as you call it, was what brought me to Charleston. Anyone else with a lick of common sense would have looked at the mess we'd gotten ourselves into and left well enough alone." Her expression changed slightly and if he hadn't had over a decade's experience in reading the various nuances of her facial expressions he might not have caught it. She wanted a truthful answer to her question, even if she feared she wouldn't like the truth.

Her voice quavered only slightly as she gently asked. "If I hadn't come here to you, if I had given up on winning you back, do you think you would have come back to me?" The tension in her frame was only visible in the way her hands were tightly clasped in the lap of her flowing skirt. That sign of mental unrest had been absent since his declaration of love earlier that week.

"It would have taken time, but yes,' he offered slowly, carefully choosing each word, "Eventually I would have needed to see you face to face, to see for myself how you were."

His words achieved the desired result. Smiling radiantly she reached out to him and he took her hand in his own. "That night when I was sick on the balcony, do you remember that?" she asked coyly.

"Yes." How could he forget, the way she had felt in his arms that night. How her hair smelt like air in summer after a downpour, fresh and alive; and her perfume though faint reminded him of roses in late spring. His first instinct had been to draw her even closer and bury his lips in her hair, though he had never intended for her to know that.

"When I nearly fainted and you caught me, the way you held me made me think that you still cared for me. Did you want to kiss me?" she asked, her chin tucked down demurely. She peeped at him through her thick lashes making eye contact with him briefly she pitched her gaze back down toward her still clasped hands.

He laughed softly, to himself. She had known. Clever girl, she had seen right through him and his polite attempts at maintaining distance and known. He had considered pushing her away but he had been afraid she would faint and then he'd have to carry her to her bed. It had been excruciating to hold her and not claim her lips with his, but so long as they were still outside he could control his insane urges. In her bedroom, lowering her to her bed, that would have been the breaking point between telling himself that it was just her body invoking these feelings within him and admitting her touch _affected him. _

"What are you making?" he asked blandly, without acknowledging her question.

"Never you mind," she said with a mysterious smile, "And you needn't bother changing the subject. I'll take that as a no. I must say I am disappointed, here and I was sure that the reason you left my shoes on when you put me to bed was that you didn't dare allow yourself to start removing items of clothing for fear you'd lose yourself in desire for me."

"I didn't remove your shoes because I was far too busy deluding myself into thinking I had a chance of ending our marriage."

"You would have had a chance to end it, if the boat hadn't capsized I would have left in April…"

He interrupted before she could finish her sentence. "And I would have come after you in May," he grinned impertinently, "if I could have held out that long." he added with a self debasing grin. He moved her needlework to the side table and seated himself beside her on the settee. "I feel as though we keep going in circles around this topic so let me say this now, hopefully for the last time. I would have come after you. I don't deny that I would have tried to deceive you into believing I had followed you back to Atlanta out of friendly concern for your wellbeing. But make no mistake it would not have taken too long for me to realize that I'd made a terrible error in judgment."

She smiled at him; a lazy, slow to unfurl smile of contented pride in his attraction to her. The dimple that appeared in her cheek charmed him into leaning forward and gently, almost shyly like a young man taking a liberty and expecting a rebuke he brushed his lips against her soft slightly parted lips.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and without hesitation her mouth opened against his. They had so little time, the children and his mother and sister were waiting for them. Scarlett's Aunts were no doubt still in a tizzy about their earlier exchange with Ella. He nearly broke away from her, he almost told her that they could resume their embrace later on but she changed his mind and dissolved his noble intentions with a few whispered words. "Rhett, she whispered, sensing that he was struggling to break off their kiss, "don't you want to kiss me?"

'Damn her Aunts,' he though even as he plundered her willing mouth with his own. His hands slid to her waist where his fingers splayed wide to mold them selves to her soft curves.

"Why Mister Butler," she whispered coquettishly when he finally did bring their kiss to its natural end, an ending not influenced by anything but their own needs and desires, "You do fairly take my breath away."

"Mrs. Butler, the feeling is more than mutual."

She slid her arms down from around his neck and curved her hands over his broad shoulders. "What took you so long to come up? I waited and waited but I finally had to send Penny down."

"Your Aunts are here and they have already called Ella by her full name which in turn caused her to stick out her tongue which then led to them question my parenting abilities."

"She stuck out her tongue?" asked Scarlett guiltily.

"Yes, I wondered where she would pick something like that up from."

"One never knows," she replied giggling.

He threw back his head and laughed at her transparent denial. "One does know m dear, your daughter was more than willing to point out that her mother stuck her tongue out just yesterday at Uncle Rhett. Wade defended you fiercely, claiming that his mother would never engage in such unlady like behavior. Ella then turned to me for affirmation of her claim."

Scarlett broke into peals of laughter. "Aunt Pauline and Aunt Eulaine aren't use to children. No wonder mother was so proper, those two practically raised her. Oh, but those two must have been scandalized. Poor Ella, and your mother…and of course Wade, he always feels responsible for Ella's behavior."

He lips twisted into that half smile half smirk of his that she had always adored, whether she had been aware of that adoration was inconsequential to her. She knew now that she adored it, obviously she must have for so time. "That covers almost everyone, but I notice that there was no poor Rhett in your tally. I, after all, was put into the very awkward position of having to be called upon to refute the ascertain that you would ever act in an unlady like manner. Have you no sympathy for me?"

She smiled brightly, "I don't feel a bit sorry if you've been chastised by Aunt Pauline and Aunt Eulaine . As far as that's concerned you deserved it. In fact it's been a long time coming. I still haven't forgotten the letter those two wrote me when you were in Charleston charming them when you visited. You, the overly indulgent husband struggling not to buckle under the shame of having a wife involved in trade and me as said shameful wife."

"Ah, paying me back are we?"

"Poor Rhett," she offered finally. Her expression was one of gentle sympathy, but her smug tone and sparkling eyes made it clear that she was amused at the thought that the Aunts had browbeat him over a breach of manners.

"A bit late for that, I'll remember this, you heartless creature."

"Heartless, that's harsh. I most certainly do have a heart." She lifted her small chin and took up her embroidery once more from the table.

He plucked the embroidery from her hands and tossed it carelessly back on to the end table. He stood up and without warning picked her up with a burst of laughter. "You're right, I know you have a heart. Mine."


	65. Rage of Angels

**Happy belated holiday. Hope you all enjoy**

**This is a side note to the person who left that hateful, small minded, pathetic review that really had very little to do with this story and instead had more to do with mocking other people. Just know that this isn't over, not by a long shot. In a season of holiday love, you chose to leave something that is insulting to anyone who can form coherent thoughts on complex topics. I had hoped that in this day and age who people chose to be, and who they were meant to be would not be made fun of. Don't bother to reply to this, I couldn't be bothered to read why you'd leave a review like that. Oh, and you misspelled fantasized. Lovely, you are bigoted and illiterate.**

Breakfast was an arduous ordeal for Scarlett. She couldn't wait for the meal to be over and done with so the Aunts could be hurried on their way. She knew though, from years of receiving scores of repetitive often condemning letters, that she'd long since stopped reading, that this was their chance to glory in her uncouth behavior. Even as they ate their breakfasts with tiny nibbles and delicate swallows they occasionally exchanged superior looks that said, "we're just bidding our time till we can sit down and put our ever erring niece back on the straight and narrow path to glory. It was enough to rob Scarlett of her appetite.

The aunts were nearly chomping at the bit to begin their chastisement of her and her recent activities. 'They were the ones that could use a real lesson in what it was to be a lady, a real lady did not make someone feel uncomfortable because of an error in judgment, but rather they gently corrected the wrongdoer with grace and diplomacy. Mean, old biddies,' concluded Scarlett angrily.

She surveyed the table. Wade was picking at his plate. He had initially tucked in eagerly but the strained atmosphere of the table had curbed his appetite considerably. Bad enough her own appetite was now spoiled but it appeared that her children were of an equal state of mind, or rather stomach. Ella only toyed with her waffles, while doing so she dribbled ribbon cane syrup on one of the few nice dresses she'd brought with her leading to another pointed rebuke from Pauline.

Scarlett itched to tell her Aunt to look to her own manners and leave Ella and Wade's alone but that would only lead to tears and accusations of wrongdoing on Scarlett's part. She attacked her waffles with a vengeance, hacking them into tiny pieces as she tried to rein in her temper. Her aunts were so unlike her own gracious mother, if she didn't know better she'd assume her mother had been adopted by the Robiliard family, that was the only way to equate the difference between Ellen and her wasp tongued sisters.

Rhett caught her eye and smiled roguishly. She felt her own lip form a smile before she could even think about it. To Halifax with her aunts, the both of them, so she would have to spend the morning listening to their prattling and tale bearing. They were leaving for Savannah to see Grandfather Robiliard soon now that she was on her way to recovering and by the time they returned she would be on her feet and either at the Landing or out visiting when they decided to stop by. She would make sure of it.

Pauline clucked her tongue with disapproval, clearly the old woman loved the sound of her own voice droning on in a lecture. "Ella Lorena, for heaven's sake, now you've gotten preserves all over your dress…"

"Great balls of fire, no one's called her that since we had her christened, truth be told I picked the name Ella because of mother but Frank picked Lorena because of that silly song. My daughter's name is Ella or if that's too difficult to remember you might call her Miss Kennedy," exploded Scarlett.

"Well I never," gasped Pauline even as Eulalie cried out, "Scarlett!"

"Oh, I want to be called Miss Kennedy," exclaimed Ella excitedly. Uncle Rhett called her Miss Kennedy when ever he pretended she was a young lady. Being called Miss Kennedy in her mind was equated to all the times that she and her stepfather had shared with her sister, who she still missed desperately.

"Aunt Rosemary, you remember you were telling me about the bookstore you like in town," whispered Wade.

"Yes," replied Rosemary quietly as she watched the drama unfolding at the breakfast table.

"Now might be a good time to show it to me and Ella."

"Do you think we should risk it?" asked Rosemary. It had been so long since she'd seen Scarlett truly angry and she was loath to move in case it drew Scarlett's attention like a cobras to a mouse. Rosemary was no shrinking violet, but she knew that she was no mongoose. If Scarlett decided to strike at her next in a rage lord only knew what avenue she'd chose.

"It's more of a risk to stay," said Wade as he warily watched his mother. Her pale face glowed with the heated blood of indignation and he knew that she was far from done routing her aunts. By the time she finished they would, no doubt be little more than two quivering piles of jelly.

Rosemary looked to her brother in his place at the head of the table. He didn't seem the least bit embarrassed or scandalized by Scarlett's outburst. In all honesty he looked amused by her narrowed eyes and high color.

There was something more to Rhett's gaze, a look that Rosemary dare not assign an emotion to…a look that was vaguely predatory in nature. It suddenly came to her, he was enjoying watching Scarlett lose her temper. The dynamic of their relationship was slowly revealing itself to her. Rhett liked to see her passionate nature bubble to the surface, it must have been one of the initial things that had drawn him to her.

Rosemary slid her chair backward, wincing slightly at the muted squeal the chairs legs made scraping against the floor. "Breakfast was wonderful mother, would you tell Carlen I said so. Wade, Ella, would you like to go for a walk with me?"

Wade rose from his own chair and asked quickly "Mother, may we?"

Scarlett nodded distractedly, her focus completely on her Aunts. "Yes, make sure you mind your Aunt. Stay close to her, Ella you especially."

"But I want to see what happe…" began Ella.

"Ella," Wade exclaimed.

Ella slid out of her chair reluctantly, "But I think momma's going to start to holler again," said Ella in a loud whisper.

Rhett laughter rang out at her astute observation even as his sister caught Ella's hand in her own.

"Come along Ella, let's get you cleaned up before we go out."

The children and Rosemary left the dinning room as Scarlett watched wistfully. She would have given the contents of her bank account to be able to rise from her chair without difficulty and spend a morning shopping with her children instead of confined to a chair sparing with her shrewish aunts.

"Rhett," she asked sweetly speaking to her husband as though they were alone, "more coffee darling?"

Just as she picked up the Revere coffee pot Aunt Pauline regained her confidence and addressed Scarlett, her voice heavy with disapproval. "Bad enough you allow those children to take enormous liberties, but even that isn't as bad as what got you into your current predicament. Really Scarlett, sailing? Whatever possessed you?"

Eulalie chimed in before Scarlett could answer her aunt. "If your mother were here she would tell you what I am about to, your behavior since you arrived is nothing short of hoyden. I am embarrassed, not just for you but for her. What would she say if she were still with us?"

Scarlett looked down at her plate. Her aunt had drawn the only arrow in her quiver of barbs that had the power to mollify Scarlett, the thought of what would mother think. She wanted to believe that she no longer cared, especially after hearing that her mother had her own failings, but a lifetime of wanting her gentle mother's approval was hard to overturn.

Eulalie could see that Scarlett's acid tongue had been, at least temporarily, stilled and she scolded harshly, "Why on earth were you out in that thing in the first place, that's what I'd like to know."

"I told her we were going sailing, it was my decision and Scarlett is a dutiful wife who would never refuse me," said Rhett with a smirk that he didn't bother to try and hide. "Are you suggesting that Scarlett should have refused her husband's request?" he asked before raising his coffee cup to his mouth.

Scarlett's chin came up as she turned her eyes toward her husband. He met her gaze with a slight smile. She recalled his promise to her the day before; a slight against her would be considered an affront to him as well. He had sworn that never again would he sit idly by while anyone said a word against her. While she had been moved by his oath she hadn't realized that would extend even to her own family.

Pauline and Eulalie exchanged disconcerted glances. Certainly Captain Butler did have a point, when a man ordered his wife to accompany him she was bound by duty to obey his request. To not do so would be socially less acceptable then Scarlett accompanying her husband for a day of sailing.

"Captain Butler, I'm sure you meant well but you've damaged Scarlett's reputation," Pauline offered hesitantly.

Miss Eleanor folded her napkin neatly and placed it to the side of her plate. Her face was bland as she offered her opinion on Pauline's caustic statement. She was growing weary of the way Pauline and Eulalie constantly nitpicked every nuance of Scarlett's life. From her behavior to the clothes on her back it was becoming clear to her that the two women who she counted among her dearest friends had a favorite pastime that was utterly distasteful in her opinion; dressing down Scarlett.

"Pauline, that's absurd," said Eleanor. "It's perfectly acceptable for a woman to accompany her husband aboard a sailboat. Certainly here in Charleston. Why I myself went out with Rhett's father when first we were married. I can't imagine what sort of narrow-minded busybody would condemn Scarlett for something as harmless as spending a day sailing."

Both sisters' heads came up in shock as though they'd been slapped. It was clear from Eleanor's tone just whom she meant. "You must care what people are saying about Scarlett; after all she bears your son's name. For that matter people are talking about Captain Butler and how he had no business taking Scarlett out sailing this time of year. Pauline and I care what people say about our family."

"Of course you do, you've always been careful of what people think of you, like when Brandon Rotsey was courting Eulalie or was it you Pauline? I do declare I must be getting old if I can't remember whose beau Brandon was."

Pauline drew a quick breath but it was Eulalie who found her tongue first, "Brandon Rotsey was a rouge Eleanor, I am appalled that you'd even mention his name in our hearing. I assume you are simply out of sorts what with having to deal with Scarlett's illness and Scarlett's rambunctious children."

Pauline nodded agreeing with her sister completely. "Perhaps when things have settled down you'll be back to your old self."

The sisters departed hastily after grazing Scarlett's cheek with dry quick pecks.

"What on earth was that all about?" asked Scarlett.

"Sometimes your aunts can be the two most vexing creatures in the world."

"Runs in the family?" offered Rhett with a grin.

Scarlett frowned at him warningly, "Oh you, hush." She turned her attention back to Rhett's mother. "Miss Eleanor it was good of you to take up for me with the Aunts but honestly you shouldn't have. They've never approved of me and I've long since ceased to care what they think."

"Scarlett, when you married my son you became my daughter. Just as I wouldn't sit ideally by and allow anyone to speak against Rosemary or Emily the same goes for you. No one is going to speak ill of you in my hearing and that includes Pauline and Eulalie."

Scarlett's eyes welled with tears as she graced Miss Eleanor with one of her rare loving smiles. Miss Eleanor smiled back at her daughter in law. She'd meant every word; Scarlett was dear to her. She had given her son his beautiful daughter, Bonnie and she was Rhett's wife. She was Pierre's granddaughter; the blood of the man she had adored in her youth ran in her veins. Scarlett had done right by her aunts and in doing so had indirectly maintained the Butler household through some very dark times. Scarlett deserved Eleanor's loyalty and she was determined to render it at every given opportunity.


	66. Sweet Caroline

Scarlett had managed to employ all her wiles and in the end Rhett did not challenged her decision to take tea on the pizzazz even though she'd been at the breakfast table for nearly three hours. She had asked if Miss Eleanor would like to join her but, just as she'd been about to answer, Emily had stopped by to offer a vague excuse as to why she hadn't joined the family for tea the previous day.

With Emily's arrival Miss Eleanor had declined to take tea with Scarlett, insisting she had to settle household accounts. That was a partial falsehood, there were things in the house which did indeed need her attention. Rosemary for one and Scarlett's health for another.

Though she would have liked to have taken tea with her daughters in law it would be, in Eleanor's mind, a good thing if Scarlett and Emily became close. Emily needed a confidant and Scarlett, though she didn't know it, was about to lose Rosemary, for just as soon as Eleanor could make the arrangements and secure a chaperone, Rosemary would be making her way to Europe.

Eleanor excused herself and after Rhett carried Scarlett upstairs to the piazza, Scarlett laughingly dismissed him.

"I'm not invited to take tea with my beautiful wife and charming sister in law," Rhett asked with a ferociousfrown.

Scarlett pulled her lips into a thin line and with a slight lift of her eyebrow tilted her head. "It would be terribly foolish on my part to let you stay."

"May I inquire why?" asked Rhett solemnly.

"Because no doubt you'd leave the table with your head even more swelled than it is now. I intend to talking ceaselessly about how wonderful my husband is and how much I love him."

Emily unconvincingly tried to conceal her smile behind her fan.

"You are enjoying this entirely too much, aren't you Em? Admit it."

She grinned unabashedly. "If this situation were any more romantic it would be the plot of an Ann Radcliffe novel."

"If that were true, Scarlett would be a pennyless governess and I the blackhearted lord of the manor who she reforms with gentleness and a firm, but moral hand."

"Shoo Mister Rochester, the moors await."

With a rasied eyebrow, he bowed gracefully. "Point taken," he said with a grin.

After Rhett took his leave of them, Scarlett smiled kindly at Emily.

"Where were you yesterday, truly?" asked Scarlett softly.

Emily smiled beguilingly "Just leave it alone Scarlett. I'm sorry that that isn't much of an answer but it's the best I can do."

Scarlett nodded and uncharacteristically changed the subject. She asked if Emily had enjoyed traveling with the children and would she like to spend time with them before the Butler's left for the Landing. It was a proposition that Emily acquiesced to happily.

Sally Brewton and her cousin Rachel arrived just as they had Carlen brought up the tea tray and Scarlett immediately invited the women to stay and join them. The women discussed several topics before Scarlett recounted the events of the morning.

"You should have seen Miss Eleanor. She practically ran the aunts off. I thought they were going to have an apoplexy." Scarlett concluded, as she passed Sally a slice of Lane cake. "What I'd like to know though is who Brandon Roatsey is and why the very mention of him sent my aunts all but racing for the door."

"I've no idea," said Emily. "Perhaps they had a suitor in common."

"How scandalous," laughed Rachel, with a wink in Sally's direction.

Sally laughed gaily, her monkey face lighting with mischief. "I bet I know who would know,' she said, her voice teasing with a sing song lint to it.

"Who?" asked Scarlett eagerly.

"Julia Ashley. She knows every shred of gossip worth knowing." Sally smirked, "Not that I don't, but Julia has thirty years over me so of course she is all the more familiar with old scandals."

"I just can't see Miss Ashley lowering herself to gossip," said Scarlett.

"Then you don't know me very well," commented Julia Ashley from the doorway.

"Julia," sang out Sally with a real affection. "We were just talking about you." Sally smiled completely nonplussed at being caught discussing Julia. They were compatriots despite the thirty year age gap between the two women. Sally was a Charleston institution as was Julia and as is often said water rises to find its like. Their affection for one another did not sweeten their acid tongues nor dull their rapier sharp wit. Each treated the other as a whetstone to hone their barbed comments upon.

Julia dismissed Sally's words with an airy wave of her hand. "Scarlett, you're looking well, you got the daffodils?"

"I did Miss Ashley, thank you, they were exquisite. How kind of you to think of me," said Scarlett politely.

"Kind, bah." Julia made a dismissive noise trying to cloak her adoration of the newest addition to Ashley Plantations flora. "They're pretty enough when they bloom but after a while it's an eyesore with their heads drooping. Better to give them where they can be enjoyed. And Scarlett, I'd like it if you'd call me Miss Julia.

Sally, Rachel, and Emily exchanged wondering glances. Julia Ashley was not one to invite familiarity with outsiders, outsiders referring to anyone not born in Charleston and of patrician stock. Scarlett, despite her Robiliard mother, exemplified two of Julia's main grievances in relation to outsiders. Scarlett had been born on a plantation cut out of the pine wilderness of central Georgia, far from the influences of genteel civilization so she could not be expected to know what was required which meant, in theory, allowances should be made. Julia hated to make allowances for anyone so by far it was easier to be polite, but aloof to outsiders.

Scarlett's other detracting flaw was her raw vitality. She was a wild card who could not be expected to act in the traditionally proscribed manner for women of her social standing. She spoke her mind when it would have been far more prudent to bite her tongue. She concealed her true nature poorly and made no apologies for that transgression against Charleston's rigid moral code. She was unpredictable.

Julia Ashley did not embrace the unpredictable. She liked to know that she would have the upper hand in any verbal duel and when it came to Scarlett that expectation was negated. Yet, despite all the things that traditionally would have made Julia "polite" Scarlett to death, Julia seemed to have a real affinity for her.

Rachel arched her eyebrow in amusement as she met her cousin's curious eyes. They exchanged a puzzled but pleased look. Rachel was rapidly becoming as fond of Scarlett as Sally already was and she was pleased that Scarlett seemed to be making real headway into becoming a part of Charleston's tight knit clannish society.

Scarlett smiled, pleased at this unexpected sign of favor. Her aunts could prattle on all they wished, but if Julia Ashley the last Ashley of Ashley Plantation approved of her then the rest of Charleston would be quick to emulate her. How proud Rhett would be of her if she was accepted by his family and peers. The fact that the Aunts would have to hold their tongues was a pleasant plus. Frosting on an already sweet triumph.

"Thank you Miss Julia." Scarlett smiled charmingly, her green eyes lit from within with a gleam of mischief and exuberance. Julia returned her smile before she could stop herself.

Julia did not force the smile from her face though it had appeared unbidden. Why not smile, life in the form of Scarlett Butler had surprised her and at her advanced age real surprises were few and far in between. At tea that afternoon in January when the Butler siblings and Scarlett had come to call Julia wouldn't have given a rap for Scarlett's chances when it came to winning Rhett Butler over. She felt sorry for the girl but the facts were the facts and life was often a cold, bleak, lonely place. But contrary to Julia's expectation through sheer perseverance and a fluke near death experience, which had helped her advance her campaign, Scarlett had won a place in Rhett's life once more.

Just the other day she'd counseled Rhett, who she had known since he was a babe in Eleanor's arms, to give Scarlett a baby. He'd rebuffed the idea hastily; citing their late daughter as just one of the many obstacles that stood in the path of them even discussing children, but she couldn't help but think a child would forge yet another strong link between them.

"Miss Julia, will you join us for tea, I'll have Penny run down and ask Carlen to send up another pot," Scarlett checked herself in mid-sentence. Julia Ashley wasn't alone.

Scarlett's eyes came to rest on the girl standing just behind Julia. She was more of a young lady than a child, she appeared to be about twelve or thirteen and the stamp of Ashley blood was clear in her features and carriage. Her small white gloved hands were still at her sides and her face was serene, but Scarlett caught a fleeting ember of peaked interest in the girl's eyes. But it was gone a moment later as the girl directed her eyes downward ever so slightly.

Clearly the façade of well reared young womanhood was one that had been carefully cultivated to conceal another nature beneath it. Scarlett suppressed a chuckle. 'Damn Rosemary,' thought Scarlett. 'She's beginning to rub off on me. Surely I was never this insightful before.' Forcing her attention from her own thoughts to her company Scarlett asked with a smile, "Miss Julia, who's this?"

"My great-niece, Caroline." Julia moved aside slightly.

"Good afternoon ladies," the girl curtsied, her movements perfectly calculated to show her innate natural gracefulness.

Julia sat and motioned for Caroline to stand next to the table.

Scarlett's appraising eyes took in the elegance of Caroline's dress and she mentally noted to ask Miss Julia who Caroline's seamstress was. The tailored fit of the girl's green striped ivory silk gauze ensemble was flawless. The dress was simple, but suited Caroline's petite frame and fine boned face with a below the knee skirt draped at the lower back to accommodate a soft bustle of pale green silk.

It was the exact sort of dress that Scarlett had fully expected Ella to arrive wearing, in addition she should have had a dozen more in varying hues and flattering styles. Instead she had arrived with dresses that were on the verge of being outmoded, outgrown, or just plain shabby. For the hundredth time since Ella and Wade had arrived Scarlett's hands itched to find themselves around Suellen's neck. Her greedy cow of a sister would get just what was her due, a sharp slap and a dressing down that would echo in her empty head for the rest of her life.

"What a lovely dress Caroline. You must give me the name of your dressmaker," commented Scarlett.

Caroline's face bloomed into beauty when she smiled. She was an attractive child-woman who was entering the threshold of what would no doubt be a ravishing womanhood. "Thank you kindly Mrs…" Caroline flushed prettily; her light laugh was pleasant but modulated. "I'm sorry ma'am, I'm nearly sure you're Captain Butler's wife, but I don't want to presume."

"How are you nearly sure Caroline?" asked Scarlett curiously.

Caroline looked toward Julia who nodded giving her permission to answer. "Aunt Julia said you had the most beautiful green eyes and I felt sure that I'd heard Captain Butler's wife's name was Scarlett. It's a very uncommon name, but lovely just the same, it entirely suits you."

"Why Julia, this pretty young thing is so gracious, you'd hardly know she was kin to you," ventured Sally with a small smirk.

"Sally, do cease your jabbering, the adults are conversing," returned Julia acidly. "Caroline's a Greer, not that the name will mean that much to you Scarlett, but Emily you're kin to the Howard's Landing Greer's aren't you?"

Emily reached for her fan and the hem of her sleeve slid back slightly, quickly she slid it back but not before Scarlett noticed an ugly mottled red patch on her wrist. Her heart twisted painfully in her chest. Had Ross done that? Was that why Emily had missed tea the previous day? Emily must have felt Scarlett's eyes upon her because briefly she met them and shook her head slightly. Once up and then once down, a silent yes to an unasked question. Ross.

Switching her fan to her right hand Emily snapped it open and gently wafted it back and forth. "I am indeed. Caroline, you must be Theodore's daughter. Your hair is precisely the same shade Theodore's was when we were younger. You're the oldest of Theodore's girls?"

"I am ma'am."

"Please give my regards to your dear father when next you see him, won't you. I'm Emily Butler née DeSaussure."

"I'm pleased to make your acquaintance Mrs. Butler, Father's mentioned you before. I'll be sure to remember you to papa.

He also spoke of your brother, Raul I think?" she asked elegantly.

Emily's fan stilled and she smiled faintly. "Raul was my youngest brother," clarified Emily for Scarlett's benefit. "He deserted his unit to try and make his way to Gettysburg where my other brothers died for the cause. Poor brave fool, he told one of his friends that he was going to try to find my brothers bodies, to bring them home."

"How old was he?" asked Scarlett.

"Seventeen, a month shy of his eighteenth birthday. He was so handsome and he… he was my favorite brother though I always pretended that he was a pest."

"Raul was very special," commented Rachel.

The silence hung for several minutes as each of the women thought of the young men, some of them now in their graves for a decade at least that had died for the Cause. It was Scarlett, who never wallowed in memory for long who found her tongue first.

"Do you live in Charleston Caroline?" asked Scarlett. Sally smiled at her gratefully. Her father and two cousins had been with Emmett in West Virginia and only her father's body had been recovered. She seldom liked to discuss the numerous men who hadn't returned to Charleston.

Julia answered for her great niece, "Caroline is staying with me. Two of her cousins will also be joining us in the course of the week."

"That's lovely Julia, are you opening a young ladies academy?" asked Sally, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

"Why, are you seeking a position? Perhaps you could teach riding," replied Julia tartly.

"What a marvelous idea, I can teach basic theory as well as a master class. I would excel in illustrating how a lady falls from a horse but does not injure herself."

Scarlett, Emily, and Rachel fought to suppress giggles at Sally's remark. Her many riding sustained injuries were Charleston legend. Miles, her husband, no longer allowed her to ride on the cobbled streets of Charleston. He reasoned that if she only rode across the fields at their place across the river she would, in the worst case scenario, only break bones from a tumble to the relativity soft ground rather than her skull if she fell on the hard stone.

"Scarlett, your children have arrived, haven't they?" asked Julia.

"Yes Miss Julia. Emily brought them just yesterday."

"Perhaps they'd enjoy a brief tour. Caroline knows this area like the back of her hand, she'll take them about."

"That's a fine idea Miss Julia. Caroline, you wouldn't mind?"

"No Mrs. Butler, it would be my pleasure."

Scarlett rang the heavy brass hand bell that would bring the ever-attentive Penny. The girl was a treasure; she was always nearby whenever Scarlett called.

The girl opened the door that led to the second floor hall. With a curtsy Penny asked in her flat drawl "Yes Miss Scarlett?"

"Penny, would you make the children presentable for an outing with Miss Ashley's niece and then bring them to me out here on the piazza?"

"Yes Miss Scarlett." Penny left the way she'd come and with a smile Scarlett addressed Julia and Caroline.

Julia motioned for Caroline to sit on the wrought iron bench near the door to Scarlett's room at the far end of the piazza. "The child has ears like a rabbit. Although she doesn't deign to repeat things, an admirable quality in a child or an adult for that matter. Now Scarlett, you are looking rosy and quite well. Are you up and about yet?"

"Not quite yet, next week I'm allowed to stand on my own, well on my own with a cane. Doctor Cross says I'll need to use a cane for a few months."

"Jason Cross is mighty handsome, don't you agree Scarlett?" asked Julia pointedly.

"I hadn't given the matter much thought. He is good looking, I suppose," lied Scarlett nonchalantly.

"I'll bet Rosemary has given that matter considerable thought, hasn't she Scarlett?"

"I'm sure I wouldn't know Miss Julia," murmured Scarlett.

Sally's head came up sharply. Her bright blue eyes searched Scarlett's continence. It was fairly obvious that she was trying to hide something. Sally could only pray that she was wrong and Scarlett hadn't given Rosemary any sort of advice that was pro Jason Cross. The other day when she had given Rhett a lift to the depot he had confessed to her how deeply in love he was with Scarlett. It had been ages since she'd seen Rhett so happy. He loved his wife but Rhett being Rhett would close his heart if he felt betrayed. "Scarlett, you do know the history between the Butler's and the Cross's don't you?" warned Sally.

"I believe Rhett mentioned something about some bad blood between the families." These women were too sharp by half. It was clear that she should have given Rosemary a noncommittal bit of sympathy but remained neutral on the issue of pursing Doctor Cross. Rhett would strangle her with his bare hands if he found out just how embroiled she truly was in the Rosemary Doctor Cross affair.

Julia put her teacup down in it's saucer with a sharp rattle. "Bad blood, God in heaven girl they've been feuding for generations. Jason Cross is a fine doctor and a gentleman. I'm not taking away from him in that quarter certainly, but the fact remains your husband would rather have Lucifer for his sister than a Cross. Especially one with the unfortunate name of Jason. That pea brain Adele Cross named the poor mite after the dead brother, the brother your husband killed to avoid being shot in the back," finished Julia.

"Rhett shot him in self-defense," Scarlett retorted angrily.

"He did Scarlett, most of Charleston has known that for years, but in Charleston, hell in the South appearances are what count and Rhett decided to cover up the fact that Jason Cross tried to draw before the count. Why he did it I can't say, perhaps out of some misplaced feeling of guilt because he ruined Virginia Cross," said Sally.

"Scarlett, you aren't from Charleston so perhaps we seem odd to you for disregarding what we all know to be the truth to instead embrace a lie. Rhett lived the most scandalous life years ago and so he had to be punished for living outside the code that was meant to govern his life. He had to be disowned and censured. He has since made amends. He is a good son, when he came with your daughter everyone could see what kind of a father he was, and since you've been ill it has been the talk of Charleston just how devoted his been to you and your recovery…" Rachel flinched at the anger on Scarlett's brow. "Scarlett…"

"So everyone has been tittering about poor crippled Scarlett Butler, well to the devil with the lot of them," fumed Scarlett.

"Oh Miss, climb off of your high horse," ordered Julia. "No one has been gossiping. Charleston is a small town in many ways and you married into the very thick of it. People talk and you'll get no pitying glances from me when you finally are up on your feet."

"That's for sure, I doubt Julia's ever given anyone a pitying glance in her entire life," said Sally a grin wrinkling her jovial face attempting to lighten a tense mood.

"Sally, would you do something for me dear?" asked Julia sweetly.

"Of course."

"Take two of those tea cakes and put them in your mouth. By the time I've said my piece you'll have finished."

"No need to be rude Julia."

Julia attempted to soften her normally direct and brusque approach. "I was quite in earnest, I assure you. Scarlett, Rosemary is sweet on Jason Cross. I know it. Rachel knows it, if Sally had a brain between those two pointy ears that wasn't obsessed with horses or hounds she'd see it, and you see it. You, I believe more than see it. You know from the horse's mouth, so to speak. You are awfully far out on the ice and I'd hate to see it crack beneath you. I'm going to give you an excellent piece of advice, stay out of it."

"Out of what?" asked Scarlett, her expression radiating wounded innocence.

"That's the wonderful thing about that particular piece of advice, it fits most situations. If your sister in law is silly enough to think her brother would allow her to have a Cross beau that's her concern and her neck in the bargain. If you care about Rosemary you tell her to set her cap elsewhere."

Scarlett made one last desperate stab at damage control. "You are wrong Miss Julia."

"And you are a fine fibber, no doubt if you live to be as old as I am you'll grow to be a superb liar. Like now when I say I believe you, there you'd hardly know that I am lying between my teeth."


	67. The Last thing on my mind

**make sure you are up to date, the alerts haven't been working so you may have missed the previous chapter.**

Scarlett was saved by the arrival of the children. "Ella darling, you look lovely," Scarlett said gratefully.

"Thank you mama, Aunt Rosemary, Grandmama, and Penny worked all morning on my dress," Ella spun around in several enthusiastic circles, "Isn't it pretty. It was Aunt Rosemary's. Grandmama was gonna save it for when Aunt Rosemary had a little girl but she said Aunt Rosemary is procreating too much and she isn't ever going to have a baby."

Rachel and Sally managed to cover their helpless laughter at Ella's mis-wording of Rosemary's predicament. With a deep breath as she swallowed her laughter, Emily corrected her, "I think you mean procrastinating dear."

"The dress is beautiful. Don't you think so Miss Julia?" asked a flustered Scarlett trying to change the subject as Sally wiped the tears that streamed from her eyes.

Julia raised an eyebrow at Scarlett's transparent attempt to cover up her daughters spoonerism. "Very, Eleanor certainly has a way with needlework, as did my mother. I've never had the patience for it. But then with her brood of troublesome miscreants Eleanor had to cultivate the patience of a saint. Come closer, Ella is it?" invited Julia.

Ella, eager to show off the prettiest dress she'd worn in ages, came forward with a skip and a bashful smile.

The dress was fashioned of what must have once been white cotton lawn, but that had ripened to an ecru creamy ivory shade. Miss Eleanor had decorated the dress with lace and pin tucks. From the original high neck Miss Eleanor had made a new more fashionable rounded neckline with a lace yoke.

The real detailing began just below the yoke. The entire bodice of the dress was a combination of white-on-ivory embroidery and lace. The outline of the lace was decorated with embroidery. The sleeves of the dress were the originals, long with a vertical lace insert along the outer sleeve. This lace insert was accented with the same whitework flowers that accented the bodice of the dress. Vertical pin pleats ran along each side of the lace strip.

The bottom of the dress was just as beautifully executed. Very small vertical pin pleats encircled the waistline, gathering the dress nicely. A rose satin ribbon acted as a belt and tied in the back. The bottom of the skirt was decorated with more embroidery and the same petal design as the bodice was repeated on the hem.

"Really, how wonderful Miss Eleanor and Rosemary are to have spent so much time on this," said Scarlett fondly. Her sister in law and mother in law had embraced Wade and Ella, treating them as they had treated Bonnie with a great deal of love and attention. She was grateful to them both. Their love was slowly healing the wounds that had been inflicted by the children's time at Tara.

In her heart Scarlett regretted not insisting on having the children join her for Christmas or the New Year. Rhett would not have argued with her on that point, indeed he loved the children and would have been glad to have them for the holidays. Although, perhaps, it had been for the best. She didn't even want to imagine how frantic both the children would have been during the interim after the accident when both their mother and stepfather were missing and feared lost at sea. Ella was nervous and high strung to start with and Wade was sensitive and had lost so many people over the years. Yes, it was just as well that her children hadn't been put through that sort of painful ordeal.

"Ella, you look like as though you're ready to picnic in a Gainsborough landscape," said Emily admiringly.

"Is that a good thing," asked Ella quizzically.

"It most certainly is," said Julia. "Caroline, come here and meet Mrs. Butler's daughter. Ella, this is my niece Caroline Greer."

"How do you do," asked Caroline politely.

"I have a new dress so I am doing very well," replied Ella without candor.

Caroline smiled slightly, her poised mask of polite disinterest slipping for an instant. "Your dress is very pretty Ella."

"Thank you, so is yours."

"Ella, where is your brother," asked Scarlett.

"Here I am mother," Wade said, venturing out onto the piazza. he had been in the doorway for the past several minutes admiring his beautiful mother who, at long last, seemed to have finally found a place where she could stand out and be admired and liked for doing so. It had, to his mind at least, been the crime of the century for the old battleaxes of Atlanta to expect his mother to fit into their circle when she had so obviously been born to stand out.

"Wade, come here and meet Miss Ashley and her niece, Caroline. Caroline's graciously agreed to give you and your sister a small tour of the area around Miss Eleanor's house."

"That is very nice of you Miss…?"

"Greer," said Caroline with a small lift of her rounded chin. "And you are?"

"Wade Hamilton."

Caroline primly offered her glove encased hand and Wade, knowing full well what she expected, pumped her hand firmly as he would do upon meeting another young man. Hectic color flared in Caroline's cheeks and her gray eyes narrowed slightly.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance I'm sure," said Caroline, with a small sniff that bellied her words.

After several warnings not to go to far and to stay together the children set off with Caroline in the lead and the other two children trailing behind her.

"You're from Atlanta? It must be terribly exciting to visit a place like Charleston after living in Atlanta. I do hope you'll come to the races. You've missed the first races already, but perhaps your parents will allow you to go one Monday for the two mile heat. Your stepfather rode on the 9th in the two mile. He was in the top of the heat and considering Macon is a yearling, it was something to see. Do you ride?" asked Caroline, her question directed at the both of them.

Ella grimaced at the word ride. "I don't like horses," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"It is very nice here," Wade said, jumping in quickly before Caroline began to interrogate Ella about her dislike of horses.

"Nice?" said Caroline bristling immediately at the perceived affront to the majesty that was Charleston. "Charleston is one of the most beautiful cities in the world."

"Have you been to many other cities to form a basis for comparison?" asked Wade trying to hide a smirk.

She sniffed delicately, as though being asked such a silly question was an insult to her personal dignity. "Well, not precisely, but I do read a great deal. And anyway it's what everyone says, about Charleston."

"Who is everyone," piped up Ella innocently. Wade snorted at his younger sister rather astute query.

Caroline nearly frowned at both of them, but with out giving her away, her expression smoothed. It was her eyes that betrayed her though, annoyance flickered briefly in them, darkening them to a stormy blue grey. "Ella, I have an entire tin of barley drops, would you like them?"

"Truly?"

"Truly." Caroline smiled benignly. "But, if I give them to you then you mustn't speak while your sucking on them."

"Why?" asked Ella.

"Because one should never eat, walk and speak at the same time. Besides being unspeakably rude it is also dangerous. You might choke on one. Do we have a deal?"

Ella nodded eagerly and Caroline handed her a small rectangular tin embossed with a black curricle design. Inside were a number of small brightly colored round pieces of hard candy. Ella smiled at Caroline before selecting a purple candy and popping it in her mouth.

"Ella, aren't you going to offer me one," asked Wade.

Ella giggled and skipped ahead clutching the tin.

Caroline smirked, "If you had taken one, you won't be able to talk. I only keep those to give to small children." She smiled sweetly, her head slightly tilted in speculation before addressing him in a cloyingly sweet nursery voice, "I may have a few peppermint humbugs, if you'd prefer."

"Thank you, but no. I'm not partial to peppermint. They always looks pretty but then I find they just don't suit me."

"What a charming analogy. I imagine I'm supposed to take offense at being likened to a peppermint?"

Wade chuckled lightly as he called to Ella to slow down her skipping gait. "If I were really likening you to a peppermint that would imply I find you pretty."

"You don't?"

"Not especially. Your features are attractive, I'm sure you'll be pretty... when you fully grow into them."

Caroline smirked, dismissing his opinion completely. Her chin remained held high, her expression confident. "Oh Mister Hamilton, don't you worry. You're just at a difficult age. I know right now girls seem unpleasant, but in a few years, no doubt you'll come to feel differently." She clapped her hands twice in front of her sharply. "Ella, for heaven's sake, come and walk with us not in front of us."

Ella immediately scurried to Caroline's side. Caroline gave Wade a sidelong glance from beneath her curled lashes. He could read the triumphant expression in her now steel colored eyes. She had managed to bring Ella to heel with a few words whereas no matter how much he had cajoled Ella had barely paid him any heed.

He decided to make a comment about that fact. If he didn't she would no doubt continue to feel superior about it. "You're very good with bossing people around. Is it an acquired skill or does it come naturally to you?"

"Quite naturally. I suppose I get it from the Ashley's they are simply born managers. The Greer's were born to be managed, which is why I imagine my mother and papa are so well suited to one another. She says frog and he jumps. Although neither would ever admit to it." She bit her bottom lip thoughtfully appraising Wade from toe to head. "Aunt Julia's a born manager, I could never hope to be as efficient as her. Speaking of Aunt Julia, I wonder who she has her heart set on for you? Lillian or Alice? I do think she'd have done better with Sarah Lynn. Sarah is quite clever and very differential. You seem the type who'd like to know he was the undisputed lord and master of his home."

Wade stopped dead. Caroline paused mid-step when she realized he was no longer beside her. "Well? What is it? Come on now, I'm sure you're mother will be expecting us back sooner than later."

Wade stared at Caroline. With two quick strides he brought himself to her side. "Who are Alice and Lila and Sarah Lynn? "And exactly why would your Aunt Julia have plans for me? I've only just met her. That was only for a minute or two."

"It's Lillian not Lila, although we call her Lili. They are my cousins, I have several dozen in the area. Between the Greers and the Ashley's there are at least four dozen. Of course there are also the Coopers, but the Ashley's aren't overly found of them so I shouldn't imagine Julia will parade any of that lot of shoddy goods in front of you."

"You are mad, you know that?"

"I most certainly am not. The Marions are the ones with a slight strain of madness running through their blood. But as Aunt Julia always says, 'Blood tells out in the end." Caroline began to walk again. "Ella, you may walk ahead of us. But only ten steps, count them to yourself as we go so you'll keep track."

Ella skipped ahead of them. "There now, she's ahead of us s I can warn you properly. Aunt Julia is a love and I positively adore her, but she is the most terrible sort of meddler. The sort who meddles because she believes that she is perfectly entitled to because if her victim were left to their own devices they'd make a terrible botch up of circumstances. As I said before she is a born manager. Why, she is already managing your mother. That's because she likes her, I can tell just by the way she speaks of her in tones of obvious approval. You can tell when Aunt Julia thinks someone is below her notice. Although, your mother doesn't seem the type to be managed so I am on tenterhooks to see how things go between them."

Wade rolled his eyes skyward. This girl was infuriating. She never ceased to talk from the moment they'd left Miss Eleanor's house. She was in all honesty the most exasperating girl he'd ever encountered, thought Wade. The way she kept glancing at him from the corner of her now hazel colored eyes was annoying. It only served to draw attention to the bizarre way her eyes changed color with every utterance from between her full pink lips. "Instead of speaking in riddles, would you clarify something?"

"Of course."

"You're aunt has some sort of Jane Austin plans for me doesn't she? At least that's the impression I took from your two spats of babbling."

Caroline's lips drew into a taunt line of displeasure. "I did not, nor have I ever babbled in my life. I was simply issuing you a friendly warning. In Charleston people like to see things settled. In other words engaged practically from the cradle. Despite your questionable manners and your Irish heritage, you're stepfather is a Butler and your mother is a Robiliard on her mother's side. That makes you quite the matrimonial prize. A prize, that if I know Aunt Julia and I do, she is set on winning for one of her entrants. Do pass over Alice without a moments hesitation; she is shallow, sits a horse poorly, and can barely spell her own name let alone more complex words like illiterate, foolish, and annoying.

"I am not in the least bit interested in marrying anyone." He smiled a challenge. "I notice you don't list yourself amongst your cousins, you're already spoken for?"

"I don't intend on marrying anyone, ever," replied Caroline tartly.

"That's a shame, I'm sure there is a perfect someone out there waiting for you."

"That's sweet but," begun Caroline.

"To drive him insane," finished Wade smartly.

"It's a pity, your mother seems like such a polite well mannered lady, how on earth did she allow you to grow to be a perfect beast?"

Wade spoke softly but his meaning was plain, "Do not ever criticize my mother, not ever. Do not presume to know anything about my mother from some gossip you heard from your overbearing aunt or a five second conversation with her."

Caroline wasn't the least bit intimidated by Wade's sudden change in demeanor. "Well, if you're over sensitive you should have Lili, she takes everything to heart and I suspect she keeps a list of ever slight and perceived insult that has ever been even remotely directed at her."

"Thank you for the advice, I'll bear it in mind."

"You are most certainly welcome." She gestured toward an imposing column supported building. My grandfather, Clifford Greer, designed that building. It was a private club but today it serves as the hall of records for Charleston. If you notice the bell tower was designed by my great uncle Richard Ashley. If you attend the races my great uncle Richard and his cousin Irving Benton Marion designed the original grandstands. Of course since Washington Park run was used as a prison during the war the course had to be restored and the old grandstand was incorporated into the new. It's a nice blend but of course it just isn't of the same quality as the original design."

"That's very interesting. It's a nice building."

"Nice, it is perhaps one of a handful of buildings that was so well built it withstood all of the shelling during the War."

"It's very nice."

Caroline heaved a dramatic sigh. "Very well, you've made your point. We'll change the topic. How long will your family be staying in Charleston? Aunt Julia says she hopes it will be permanently."

Wade accepted her peace offering and replied candidly. "I can't honestly say. I assume we will be here for some time. My stepfather is taking us to his plantation next week and he mentioned giving mother a free hand when it comes to redecorating."

"If you won't take it as an assumption meant as an insult your mother's dress was stunning, it's obvious she has impeccable taste. No doubt what ever she chooses to do to the Landing will only serve to make it into the sort of house it was before the war. I remember going to the Landing when I was about four, just before the Yankees burned it. It was so beautiful. If you are going to Dunmore Landing we will be seeing a good deal of one another. Ashley Plantation is one of the closest to the Landing."

"Something to look forward to," muttered Wade under his breath as he followed Ella and Caroline through the Miss Eleanor's garden gate.


	68. I've been this way before

Meanwhile, as the women gossiped on the piazza and the children explored Charleston with Caroline Greer, Eleanor rapped softly at Rhett's study door. She had been flabbergasted when Julia Ashley, with the most favored of her nieces in tow, had arrived unexpectedly a short time ago to take tea with Scarlett.

She had been on her way to tell Rhett this tantalizing bit of news when a young priest with a letter for Rhett had arrived at the door. In the interest of killing two birds with one stone she had Rhett's note in hand. She hated to think what the note said. No doubt it had something to do with Rhett's convoluted plan to regain his sister in law's share of the plantation in Georgia. Usually she left Rhett to mind his own affairs, but she at wanted to take a final opportunity to warn him against a course of action that might wreck even more havoc.

"Enter."

Rhett's study was his domain and his alone. In a house that was Eleanor's to decorate she had left the room at the back of the house to her son for his use and his alone. It was his room in the most complete sense of the idea, just as the study in the Concord street house had belong to Stephen, Rhett's father.

He had spared no expensive in outfitting the room that was his sanctuary. He had traveled to Boston to met several shipments from Holland and Germany to purchase the magnificent St. James Bookcases with their intricately carved pediments and pilasters that lined one full wall. He had gone to Christie's in New York and Bradford and Co. in Maryland to buy the immense desk that he spent so many of his waking hours at.

She had offered to accompany him on his trips to help him select his furniture, he had politely and firmly turned her down. He always seemed so turbulent upon his return. Unsettled and in doubt that she worried terribly every time he announced he was going away.

In hindsight, she wondered briefly had her son had undertaken the task to keep his mind off of another study in another house where Scarlett was waiting for him.

He looked up from the papers before him and smiled warmly. "Mother, you look as though you are ready to burst. Don't keep me in suspense, out with it."

"Darling, a note came for you. Oh," she exclaimed, as she crossed over the room's threshold and came to his desk. She handed him the embossed envelope with it's thick wax seal, "you'll never in a million years guess who is upstairs taking tea with Scarlett," she said, as a prelude to what was truly on her mind.

Rhett took the envelope from her. His eyes drank in the image imbedded in the wax seal. It was not the Shield of Crowned seal of the Diocese of Charleston. No, this was far better. It was the seal of the Bishop of Charleston. In deference to his mother's presence he suppressed the triumphant smirk he felt tugging at the corners of his mouth as he read the legend beneath the shield, "Rejoicing in hope," he murmured aloud.

"Rhett?"

"Forgive me, you were saying mother, Scarlett has a guest?"

Not just any guest, do you know who is upstairs at this very minute?"

I couldn't imagine mother." Eleanor fell silent, watching her son. After slitting the envelope open with a paper knife Rhett smiled triumphantly as he skimmed the note's brief contents.

"Good news," asked Eleanor politely.

Rhett smirked now, he couldn't help it. By this time tomorrow Edward Aubrey, his lawyer, would be delivering the papers transferring Careen's share of Tara to Scarlett. "It would appear that the ever elusive Arch Bishop will be pleased to meet with me at half past five this evening."

"Rhett, you aren't still contemplating bribing Archbishop Lynch, are you?" She toyed with the bar pin at the throat of her dress, "I'd thought you would reconsider. At least I'd hoped you would think this through a little more before acting."

Rhett folded the note in half and slipped it into his jacket's interior pocket. "I've never been more determined in my life. Mother, for years I told myself that if only Scarlett would love me I'd move heaven and earth for her if something necessitated it."

His eyes gleamed with undisguised mirth, "I'd blackmail the devil himself if that would get back Careen's share of Tara."

Eleanor perched herself at the edge of one of the Moroccan leather club chairs that were positioned before Rhett's desk. Nervously she wrung her hands as she attempted to make him see the folly of what he was contemplating. "Rhett, I admire your determination, please don't misunderstand my objections. I do think that you are attempting to act in what you consider to be Scarlett's interests. But darling, are you sure that Scarlett still wants this? She seems happy here, and perhaps she could focus her energy on restoring the Landing? Certainly there is enough to be done there to keep Scarlett occupied for the better part of the decade."

Rhett's lips twisted in to a halfhearted grimace as though he was scandalized by his mother's suggestion. He managed to maintain his expression for a minute before grinning. "I've already offered her the opportunity to redecorate the Landing. She was pleased because she know I love the Landing, but it isn't what she truly wants. Scarlett is half Irish. That red clay is more precious to her than anything else in this world.."

Eleanor smiled softly. "That may have once been true Rhett, but I suspect she loved Tara so much because she had nothing else on which to attach her devotion. She has you and the children now." With a demure shrug of her shoulders Eleanor continued, "Perhaps the plantation won't matter so much now."

Rhett gave his mother a wry grin. "The fact that she's building a strong relationship with Wade will make her even more determined to buy back all the shares of Tara."

Baffled Eleanor asked "Does it really mean that much to her?"

"That house, the land; it's her father's legacy. He came to America with nothing but the clothes on his back and the brains in his head. That's where Scarlett found herself after the war. If she hadn't married me Scarlett would still be a woman of means. She would have taken what Frank left her and built it into a fortune. I've no idea as to the condition of her bank accounts. She sold the mills a few years ago to her partner but, she still has her store and the rental properties and now she's building houses."

"Did she enjoy maintaining so many businesses? I don't know how she managed?" marveled Eleanor. Rhett had once told her that Scarlett had a head for business that rivaled most men. Obviously that hadn't been empty praise. "Still though, it's one thing to be a successful business woman difficult though that must have been for a young woman, it's entirely another to take on the Catholic Church over a dowry."

Rhett's expression changed. He wasn't quite smiling but nor was he frowning. A look of what could only be described as admiration settled over his features and respect crept into his voice. "If Scarlett gets it in to her head to obtain something she'll go after it, and she wants Tara. I've no doubt the Archbishop would have been a formable opponent but, to be candid, I'd have to put my money on Scarlett. I've only chosen to intervene with the Archbishop to expedite things, but not because I doubt Scarlett's tenacity. Whether or not it would have taken her longer than me is a moot point, she would have eventually won out in the end."

"Rhett, I've been thinking.."

"A dangerous pastime mother."

"Be serious. Scarlett is going to need time to recover. She's been through a terrible ordeal and though I know she is eager to move forward she needs time to heal."

Rhett came around the desk and leaned casually against it's edge. He smiled benignly at his mother. "Mother, I adore your sense of tact but please let's just be direct. What is it you wish to discuss?"

"She loves you very much, in November we were discussing you and how she wished that she could give you a child."

His amusement abated and he leaned forward slightly. He tried to stop the eager rush of words that came to his lips. "She told you that, in those exact words?" asked Rhett with a small look of relief. It was the glow in his eyes that showed the wild rush of joy that surged through him at his mother's words.

She wanted his child. It was complete now, the rapture that she evoked in him was complete in every sense. A baby, their baby. He could hardly wait for her to be well so they could try to conceive a child.

Except he hadn't waited. They'd already made love twice in the last two weeks. On the beach after the storm and the previous morning. He should have waited till she was well. But the first time he had made love to her because he had been so grateful that she hadn't drowned. There had been no gainsaying his need for her on the storm ravaged beach.

And how could he have kept himself from worshiping her body with his own the previous afternoon. He wasn't a saint. He had wanted her for so long and to finally have her reciprocate that passion had pushed all reason and logic from his mind.

"I'll have Doctor Bastion come and examine her. If he won't render an opinion then perhaps he'll know someone he can recommend."

"Not Doctor Cross?" asked Eleanor.

"I don't want him near her, especially to consult with us on such a matter. In fact, once he comes back from his medical conference I'm going to settle his bill and that will be the end of his association with this family."

"Good riddance."

Rhett studied his mother closely, looking for something, anything that might say for certain just why she was so vehemently against Doctor Cross's presence in her home. Finding no outward sign he voiced his surprise. "Mother, that's hardly like you. I know why I don't care for the man, but your dislike comes as a surprise. You have a terrible habit of finding the good in everyone, but not Doctor Cross? Why is that?"

"Well for a multitude of reasons I suppose. Of course you don't like him for obvious reasons and I suppose that lends itself to my preference that he no longer comes calling. He is too familiar by far with Scarlett, though; I don't think it's for any other reason than to bedevil you." Eleanor tapped her chin gently with her pointer finger thoughtfully. He is so haughty that he quite puts me off. I know that "Virginia paid a fortune to have him educated and everyone knows that he was quite important in Paris during the war, but even so he is just so cold, so swelled with his own importance that I can't help but feel ill at ease in his presence."

Rhett took his mothers hands in his and raising them to his lips, he pressed a gentle kiss on the back of them. "Thank you."

"For what, darling?"

"Being so constantly on my side. It's a unique experience to have someone champion me constantly, whether I'm right or wrong it would seem."

"Wrong? When do you mean?"

"You don't approve of what I am going to do tonight, yet you would never harangue me about it or plead with me to change my mind. You disapprove of the enter enterprise, but regardless when I leave this evening I know you'll wish me luck and hope I succeed. You know I don't want Doctor Cross to continue on as Scarlett physician; anyone else would at least list the pro's and con's of his merits or try to convince me that I was being petty. Not you though mother. You support my decision and if you are mentally judging me, I'd have to be a mind reader to know for sure."

"I have never judged you. I have been annoyed with you certainly, exasperated; but I have never judged you or your decisions."

"That isn't true, when I came back here without Scarlett and without a word as to when if ever she would be joining me, you were thinking that I was a fool."

"I never thought that. I felt sorry that the two of you couldn't work things out. I won't lie, I wasn't a bit sorry when she arrived in November and I prayed every night that she would win out over your pigheaded, stubborn need to shut her out. Not because I would have been ashamed of you if you were separated from your wife, but because it was obvious that being separated from your wife was killing you."

He laughed shortly before returning to his chair behind his desk. "Was it that obvious, that I missed her so much."

"Yes."

"Here and I thought I was doing an excellent job of concealing just exactly how I really felt."

"You are joking, aren't you?"

He toyed with a pen for a minute before dipping it in ink. With several florid strokes he jotted a quick note for the Archbishop. Putting it aside to allow it to dry he finally raised his eyes to meet his mother's inquisitive gaze.

"I hope I didn't worry you overmuch."

Eleanor laughed gently. "You've worried me from the very moment I felt you kick. That made it real to me, that I was going to be a mother. I don't care how old you are, I don't care how old I am. I am your mother, I'll worry about you till the day I die."

"I'm not proud of the circumstances under which I returned, but I'm not sorry that I came home. I don't think I would have been able to give my marriage another chance any where else but here."

"I don't think that's true. It would have only been a matter of time till you found yourself on Scarlett's doorstep, no matter where is was."

"It was very accommodating of her to chose this doorstep."

Eleanor chuckled. "Speaking of our doorstep, would you like to know whose come to see Scarlett."

"I thought I heard Sally's trap bells earlier."

"Better than Sally Brewton."

"Someone more socially sought after than Sally, no stop mother, don't spoil my image of you as the most truthful and astute person I know. I can't think of another women in the whole of Charleston that could be better than Sally Brewton."

"What about the old dragon of Ashley Plantation herself?"

"Julia?" Rhett rose form the desk and met Julia Ashley in the middle of the study.

"Rhett, it's good to see you."

"Won't you sit down Julia?"

"No, but thank you just the same. Eleanor, Sally and Rachael are waiting in the foyer to say their goodbyes. Emily said she'd wait with Scarlett."

"Are you tying to get my son alone Julia Ashley, for shame," said Eleanor with a smile. She kissed Julia's cheek before leaving the room."

"I've always been found of your mother. I remember when your grandparents rose over to Ashley House to announce the marriage. I told them they couldn't have done any better for your father."

"My father was lucky to have my mother."

"Yes, she was more than he deserved certainly. Now, I expect you're surprised to see me here."

"I am intrigued, I'll admit."

"I've decided to take on Scarlett as a pet project. I assume that you all will be staying on in Charleston so I think that we should try and repair some of the damage she's done to her reputation; here and in Atlanta. Now, I know that Sally has championed her and with your mother doting on her, people find it hard to slight her openly. They'll do it behind their hands though once the Atlanta cousins start writing tittle- tattle to their Charleston cousins, and that's assuming that it hasn't already started."

"You mean Courtney?"

"You know that I do. For a start. That odious weak jawed buffoon made it very obvious that he was going to bed your wife. I would imagine there are those in Charleston that imagine he did."

His jaw tightened noticeably but his tone was smooth as he asked, "Have you heard anyone say that?"

"Easy big boy," said Julia casually.

"You speak as though you are calming a spooked horse."

"Well, before you buck me off to go blacken any eyes or reputations in retaliation. If you go off on some sort of revenge driven tangent people are definitely going to believe Courtney."

"What precisely are they going to believe?"

Julia sighed lightly. "Middleton Courtney has insinuated that Scarlett met him, several times. That was why you took her so tightly in hand, because she was running loose and you refused to allow her to cuckold you or embarrass your family."

"You know that's a lie, don't you."

"Well of course I know it's a lie. Good lord, I'm just glad that you know it's a lie."

"She wouldn't let that bastard touch her, she wouldn't lower herself to ever let another man touch her, not while she is wearing my ring on her finger."

"Nice to see that common sense and your own two eyes has completely won out over pigheadness and imagination."

"Does it ever become tiresome to so consistently be right?"

"Frightfully."


	69. Beauty in the Breakdown

**Fine, Rhett, Scarlett, mush...but don't think this is going to last :D **

**My daughter has gone into remission and is coming off of steroids so I am in a good mood**

The sound of feminine conversation fell pleasantly on Rhett's ears as he opened the door to the piazza. Emily's soft Charleston drawl and Scarlett's own peculiar blend of the slow and measured country drawl she had been reared with and it's lack of emphasis of the letter R. The sound R was soft, almost non-existent. The vowels were broad and smoothed over. It has a relaxed, languid kind of pace to it and a sweet softness that had slowly resurfaced once more since her arrival in Charleston.

Her voice, tinged with amusement and pride, shook with laughed as she told Emily, "Well, you should have seen those old cats when Rhett met me out on the dance floor. I thought they were all as like-to die when we came out to lead the Reel."

Emily laughed, "Oh Rhett is pure devil when he gets it in his head to be."

Scarlett giggled, "Yes, but it wasn't as though he had to drag me out from behind my counter. I wanted to dance so badly that I could hardly stay still."

"Shame on you Emily, it's just as Scarlett says. I took pity on a poor girl who only wanted to dance. I ask you where is the devilment in that?"

Scarlett looked up in surprise but Emily rose gracefully and after leaning down to kiss Scarlett's cheek she then gazed levelly at her brother in law for a long minute.

"Emily, when you look at me that way I feel like a piece of glass."

She chuckled immediately. "Of course you do, because you know I can see right through you."

She kissed his cheek and after exchanging promises to come see Scarlett and the children soon Emily left them alone.

He leaned forward and she eagerly met his lips with her own. "I've missed you," she said coyly.

He grinned rakishly. "And finally everything is as it should be."

"You are so conceited it boggles my mind."

He was contrite as he lifted her hand to his lips. "I apologize. Did you have a nice time today?"

Her heart fluttered almost painfully as his moustache tickled her knuckles as he kissed her hand. She loved him so much that it she could not understand how she had been so blind for so long to the depth and intensity of that love. 'Why, I've always felt this way, every time Rhett's ever kissed my hand even my cheek, my heart would pound until I was sure he could hear it,' she thought happily. "I did. I'd forgotten how nice it is to be respectable."

"Don't become too respectable or I won't recognize you," he warned her with a wink. "Would you like to come downstairs and keep me company? I have a stack of papers to go through before dinner? Or if you'd rather take a nap..."

"Ug," her pretty face twisted into a scowl. "I am so tired of that bed, it would suit me fine to never was to," she trailed off as she took in his amused expression.

"Never what?" he asked innocently.

Her narrow brow rose in mock indignation. "You sir, are being awful fresh."

"Can't make up your mind?"

"About?"

"Am I awful or fresh?"

"You Captain Butler are a charming combination of both I think," she shrugged delicately before adding like a queen bestowing a favor on an undeserving courtier, "I suppose I'll come down to your study."

"Said the spider to the fly."

"I believe that was a parlor", she corrected.

"I believe I have a sturdy lock on my study door and a beautiful wife and that is what truly matters in this particular set of circumstances," he said with a wicked grin as he swung her into his arms.

After settling them on the leather couch by the fire. With a gentleness that she had seldom experienced he brushed her thick curled hair back behind her ear before kissing her, this time it was not an offhanded kiss given to a wife, but the kind of kiss that exposed more of him to her then the most passionate bout of love making ever could.

Her warm hands cupped his face as he broke their kiss. "You meant your wedding vows, didn't you?"

"What a question," he replied softly, "Of course I did."

"Even though you knew I didn't love you?"

"Even though I knew you didn't love me."

She moved her hands lower till her palms rested lightly on his wide shoulders. "I'm so sorry, you deserved better than me. Maybe you still do."

He laughed softly before kissing her, long and lingeringly as he focused his whole self on exploring her mouth with his own. Her arms slid up around his neck till she could knit her fingers at the back of his neck.

Finally they broke apart, each breathless from the intensity of their hunger for one another and neither were ashamed to show it. "If we hadn't been able to fix things, would you have married again, after you divorced me?"

He swallowed his laughter sensing that the question was a serious one. He looked into her face turn up towards his with it's intoxicating green eyes and swollen bow shaped lips. She was beautiful, never more so than now when he knew that she loved him. But it wasn't her face or form that drew him to her. Her beauty only served as a cunning cover fashioned by nature under which she possessed a sharp, calculating mind and occasionally piecing insights.

"There is no one else in the world that I could love as I love you. When I told you, years ago, that I wasn't a marrying man, that was the truth as I knew it to be. I could never have stood next to a woman and said my vows just for the sake of marriage and appearances as my father expected me to. I pledged my love to you because even if you couldn't see it for what it truly was, I hoped, with time you would at least somehow know deep down that you were loved."

"You've always given me so much more than I've ever given you," she whispered sadly.

He rested his chin on the crown of her head and drew her close. "You gave me a home..."

"That mausoleum," she scoffed.

"You gave me a child, you let me be a part of your children's lives. And there were times, more than I'd originally thought, that you let me be a part of your life." His face twisted bitterly and she stroked his face, concern evident in her feature. "And how could I expect you to love me when I never told you how I felt, never gave you the slightest reason to believe that you were more to me than just a body I could have no other way then through matrimony."

"I know that, now."

He took her hand in his and as had once been his habit h ran the pad of his thumb over her wedding band, as though to reassure himself that his ring was really and truly there, on her finger. "I would have come after you, I wouldn't have divorced you. Life here wouldn't have just 'gone on' without you." He laughed ruefully, "I've felt more alive in the last four months since you've come to Charleston than I've felt in the last few years."

"It's so amazing to me Rhett. A few weeks from now I should be preparing to leave for Atlanta and instead we're hiding in your study, trying to steal a few minutes together."

"In a few months, when you are on your feet, I want us to go away..."

Her mouth opened in protest, but he continued with a squeeze of her hand. "Just for a few days a week at the most. So that you and I can be alone. I want to have you all to myself."

She beamed charmingly before rewarding him with a brief, but sweet kiss. They sat quietly for a time, each lost in thoughts of the past and hopes for their future.

"Scarlett?"

"Hmm?" she murmured, her eyes still closed as she inhaled his scent.

"I know we were going to the Landing next week but I have to go to Atlanta on business."

"Oh Rhett, no. The children have been looking so forward to see where you grew up."

"It's just for a few days.

"But couldn't it wait?"

"Sweetheart, if it could wait I swear I would let it. I have to sign some papers and then if I can catch a train I'll come back that day. I should be gone three days, four at the very most. I'm selling my interest in Georgia Trust and Financial."

"You're selling your bank stock?"

"I am and I'd advise you to consider doing the same."

"I don't have a great deal of stock. Mostly it's the store and the houses that I am building through Ashley. Then there is the warehouse and the bar. I could sell the bar to Thom Kendrick, he's the man who rents it you know. I'm sure I could get a good price for it. But I mostly have my money tied up in property. Why the urgency though?"

"In September while I was in Baltimore I saw an old speculator friend of mine, Sal Chase. He's holding a lofty post these days and is in a position to pass along information."

"Is he in finance?" asked Scarlett. The name meant nothing to her, though she was fairly sure she knew it from somewhere.

"He was for a long time, but these days he's a judge in Washington. Actually, he was one of the people who was instrumental in having me freed when I was being held in Atlanta after the War. Sal is a diehard Union supporter but years ago he had ties to the Whigs and the Democrats. We ran into one another at an auction and before I left Maryland he offered me some advice. He believes that the economy might suffer a major crash in the fall."

"Oh. Do you think I should sell the store?"

"I don't think so. No matter what happens things like your general and the saloon will continue to survive. Even in the tightest times men find money for a drink.

"To tell you the truth I've been thinking of selling up anyway. I think that is I would like to stay in Charleston, at least for a while."

"How long is awhile?"

"Well..." A loud thumping on the study door interrupted her.

"We can talk about this later, can't we?"

"Yes," he raised his voice so that it would carry through the door, "Come in."


	70. Living in the Now

**For Brandy, wishing you a happy birthday. Thank you for being my friend.**

Wade opened the door to the study. "I'm sorry to interrupt you Uncle Rhett but Mother wasn't upstairs," he began apologetically before his face broke out in a grin when he saw his mother sitting next to his stepfather. "Are you feeling better?"

Scarlett smiled and gestured for him to come close. He sat at her knees on the small footstool before the hearth. she leaned forward so she could smooth down his tumbled curls. He nearly jumped for a moment when she first touched his hair. His mother seldom initiated physical contact. That had always been Aunt Melly's strong suit; hugs, kisses, loving caresses. His mother was trying so hard to make up for what she hadn't done while he had been growing up.

Earlier when Rosemary had taken them to the bookstore she had asked him if he was glad to come to Charleston and he had made the appropriate answers out of a sense of duty and loyalty. But now as his mother teasingly fluffed his just neatened hair into disarray once more he felt his eyes and nose sting with unexpected emotion. He loved her so much. She certainly wasn't the most devoted or conventional mother, but he would flay alive any person who ever dare suggest such a thing.

Her son smiled warmly at her and Scarlett returned his pleased smile with a luminous grin of her own that brought out the dimple in her cheek. "How was your walk, did Caroline show you all the points of interest?" asked Scarlett teasingly.

Wade shrugged enigmatically, "We had an all right time, I suppose," he added grudgingly.

"You suppose? asked Scarlett dubiously. She changed her tact slightly. She wasn't very good at maintaining a conversation with her children yet. She didn't know enough about the way Wade's mind worked to carry on a drawn out foraging colloquy for information. Instead it would have to be a direct approach. "Caroline's very pretty, did you notice?"

He studied her suspiciously for a moment. Her face remained free of any trace of artifice as he deliberated on her seemingly innocent question. Had he ever, in his entire life, heard his mother pay another female a complement? She met his calculating gaze with her own steady, anticipating emerald eyes. As far as he could deduce she was simply curious. There wasn't the slightest indication that she would even be capable of employing the use of clever underhanded actions to achieve an end. Which, when taking what he knew of his mother's inner workings into account, meant she was on an exploratory mission.

"She is, a little," he offered cautiously, "but she is also so rude. She has an opinion about everything and it's as though her opinion is the only right one. Ever." He was so immersed in his recollections of his time spent in Caroline's company earlier that he blundered forward before he could restrain himself. "And her eyes are a funny color, sort of gray but then they are violet or blue." Wade begun rocking absently from his heel to the ball of his foot. "I had to keep looking at them because they would change."

Rhett tried to catch Scarlett's eye, but she remained absolutely stationary, not daring to breath for fear it would draw Wade away from his musings. She was determined to learn how to listen to Wade and Ella so that she could be able to give them advice or just know what it was that they felt or thought.

His fine boned features twisted as he continued. "In addition to all those less then attractive attributes I had to listen to a role call of the part every single one of her ancestors played in building Charleston. How Uncle Fredrick Greer did this or," Wade rolled his warm mahogany colored eyes, "if you listen to her long enough her relatives are responsible for nearly everything that's ever happened, I assume Great-Great Grandfather Greer invented breathing."

"Wade, sit down son, you're making me dizzy," said Rhett, as he rose from the couch to take a cigar from the cheery wood box on his desk. After lighting it and shaking out the match he asked thoughtfully, "Caroline Greer, the Greer's are kin to the Ashley's, isn't she one of Julia's numerous nieces?"

"Don't you know her," queried Wade, "She says she's met you before."

"Wade, when it comes to Julia's nieces, they are legion. There has to be at least four or five dozen of them in South Carolina, alone."

Scarlett patted the seat cushion next to her and Wade, knowing it would be pointless to decline, seated himself next to his mother.

"Caroline came with Julia this afternoon. I thought her very pretty and demure. She didn't speak without being spoken to first. Her manners are simply genteel. She's a credit to Julia's brother," replied Scarlett insouciantly.

Wade frowned at the wisdom of disagreeing with his mother but the need to air his grievances against Caroline over rode his reluctance. "Demure? You can't be talking about the same Caroline Greer? Mother, she had an opinion about everything under the sun and she wasn't shy about voicing them. If you listen to her, everything in Charleston is better than anywhere else in the world, in her estimation Charleston is the be all, end all of human achievement."

"Sounds like a smart girl," said Rhett, with a pointed grin in Scarlett's direction.

"Sounds like a girl whose never been to Tara," retorted Scarlett saucily. "Did she show you anything worth mentioning?"

"Yes, although it was hard to appreciate anything with her constant running commentary about everything. But," said Wade with a smile," Charleston is very beautiful Uncle Rhett, I see why you like it so much."

"Did she take you down to the harbor?" asked Rhett.

"Yes sir, we saw a ship docking, it was enormous. I was thinking," Wade's voice became slightly hesitant, "we saw some of the smaller boats down there and Caroline said that you belong to the Yacht club with her Uncle someone or another. I was wondering, would you teach me how to sail?"

"No!" exclaimed Scarlett, cutting off Rhett's reply.

Surprised at the firmness of her refusal he countered with logic, hoping to make her see reason. "Scarlett, I understand your reluctance in light of what happened but…"

Wade spoke quickly, hoping to stave off an argument between them. "It's all right Uncle Rhett. I was only a little interested. There are plenty of other things I can do in Charleston to keep busy."

"There," she said triumphantly, clearly pleased at gaining her own way without having to inflict wounds, "you see, he was only being polite, weren't you Wade?"

Rhett's brows drew together in annoyance. He wanted to allow her to parent her children however she saw fit, but he couldn't stand ideally by and watch her project her fears and anxieties on to Wade and Ella. "Is that what you're going to do from now on?" he asked blandly.

She folded her hands in her lap, her face reflecting contrived bafflement at the meaning of his question, "I've no idea what you mean," she said placidly.

He ground his cigar out in the ash dish on his desk. "I'd say you have a pretty fair idea as to just what I mean," he returned instantly, anticipating her denial.

He could see the Herculean effort she was making to restrain herself and the toil it was taking on her hair trigger temper. "You're mistaken, I do not know what you're going on about."

Her cat green eyes were narrowed, as she watched him warily. She wanted nothing more that to scream at him, "Can't you just this once let well enough alone," but she knew this part of him. This was the man she had married that fateful day in May when she had spoken her vows with a false tongue and a conflicted heart.

He would never leave her the victor on the field of battle, not if he could break her instead. But, she was no longer the woman he had so often baited and ridiculed. Spending the last four months under the same roof as the Butlers had shown her there was another way. She had to hold on to control. She had to cultivate the same nonchalant, devil may care facade that Rhett and Rosemary did during an altercation.

Every drop of blood in her veins that was Irish railed against the very idea of keeping her temper concealed, after all when was Gerald more himself than when he had been bellowing at the top of his lungs? But whose quiet voice and demure manners and orders had been respected, admired, and most importantly obeyed? Ellen, without usurping her husband's position as head of their family, had been the guiding force at Tara.

She steeled herself for his next, no doubt infuriating, words. but nothing could have prepared her for his matter of fact assertion.

"You're going to wrap the children up in cotton wool because you are so afraid that something might happen. What are your plans for the future, precisely? Tie Wade to the proverbial apron strings for fear that he might injure himself if you let him make decisions for himself. Cower Ella till she is afraid to stray from your side, not out of malice but under the misnomer of motherly devotion. We had an accident; it was awful I know that. It isn't the first time I've lost a craft, no doubt it won't be the last."

She bristled like a startled cat. Her earlier resolve to win the day under the banner of lady like deportment was completely tossed to the way side. "How dare you? I would never do anything to try and frighten my children into," her forehead puckered as the rest of his statement registered, "What do you mean 'won't be the last?' You aren't seriously suggesting you'll go back out sailing again after what happened?"

"I'm not suggesting anything, I am telling you unequivocally and with all honesty I am not going to give up sailing. I am sorry," his face clouded, he wanted to soften his words, but he knew that at any sign of weakness she would seize upon it and so he continued, "truly sorry about what happened, but that doesn't mean I am going to cease to live life to the fullest because of it."

Wade shifted uncomfortably drawing his stepfather and mother's attention. Scarlett's cheeks burned with embarrassment at her son having to witness yet another of their hostile exchanges. Rhett met her guilty eyes and nodded slightly, momentarily calling a truce. "Wade? Would you excuse us? I'd like to continue to speak with your mother, alone."

Wade nodded, grateful for at last being given permission to leave and after quickly pecking his mother on her cheek he fled the room as though the hounds on hell were on his heels. Closing the door behind him he stood in the hall, unsure of what to do or where to go. He could hear his mother and Uncle Rhett on the other side of the door, it sounded as though the disagreement was rapidly turning into a full-blown fight.

He cursed himself for his lack of foresight. 'Of course mother won't want me to take up sailing, not after what happened to her and Uncle Rhett, thought Wade frowning. But he was so unused to having his mother around the house, paying attention to his interests and pursuits that it had never even occurred to him that she might object. Without the store or her business ventures his mother had focused herself on being a mother, which put him under her scrutiny.

He found himself smiling a little. Aunt Melly had always reinforced the notion that his mother loved him, but could not find a way to express it. He had always told himself that she was right, that his mother cared deeply for him deep down, but it was nice to have her act like it. With a backward glace at the closed parlor door Wade decided to go to his room and read for a while before dinner.

Scarlett narrowed her eyes and jumped in before he could continue, "Before you try to manage me Rhett Butler let me just say this, I will not allow you to teach Wade to sail. I don't want either of the children out in some rickety boat. I don't want you in one, for that matter. I doubt that will mean a damned thing to you. After all when has anything that I asked of you mattered," she added bitterly.

He knew that she was alluding to her repeated requests for a second chance. She was right, in that respect, he had refused again and again, despite lingering feelings of more than habitual affection or concern. He had known that he still wanted her, that he could not just stop loving her. But he had told her there was nothing left for her in his heart but pity and a sort of reluctant affection, born more of habit then any real feeling. She was right, he had ignored one of the most crucial truths that she had ever presented to him and for that he was sorry, but not sorry enough to live a life in which if an activity was deemed risky it was placed out of bounds.

"Scarlett, I would do almost anything you ask of me..." he began.

Her jaw clenched spasmodically as she struggled to keep her from screaming. "Don't take up sailing again."

He gestured regretfully, the palms of his hands extend and facing up offering her anything else that she might ask, anything but that. "Unfortunately, that's one of the few almost anythings."

"You are mad, do you know that? You can't see how pigheaded you are being about this." He voice cracked as she choked out, he voice dropping to a whisper, "We nearly drowned."

"We did. I am not denying nor minimizing what happened. It was my fault. I wasn't paying attention to the conditions around us. I wish to God I hadn't been so distracted, but I was. For that I can't apologize enough. All I can do is assure you that I'll be far more cautious in the future."

Tears sparkled in her eyes, he could see that she was hurt and frightened but, when she at last spoke, her words rang with quiet strength and resignation. "You won't be happy till you end up dead. You aren't Rhett Butler, cad and vagabond anymore. You have what you claimed you've wanted for years, you have me. Completely. There isn't a part of me that isn't yours now. You've told me repeatedly these last few days that you love me. What do you think would happen to your mother, your sister, and the children if something were to happen to you? What do you think that would do to them, to me? I would die. It would rip my heart out of me if something happened to you." She brought her hands to her face. Tears began to roll down her face and her body shook as she tried to suppress the sobs that threaten to wrack her body.

He knelt before her and put his hands on the arm of her chair. "Don't cry. Sweetheart, please." Surprisingly he laughed shortly drawing her attention. With a crooked smile he commented, "You don't do anything by half measures, do you Scarlett."

She looked down at him; her cheeks were flushed in stark contrast to the milky tone of her skin. "You think I'm putting on a show of some sort, just to get my own way?" she lashed out angrily. "I thought I had made it clear that I was past playacting when it came to how I feel for you, but if you think that have it your own way."

"I meant that when you decided to fall in love with me you didn't do it impetuously on a whim. You love me. I know that you do. I also love you, but I love living. I love the feeling of being out on the water with the sails streaming out above me. I love the sound the yardarm makes when a real strong gust of wind fills the sails," he placed his hand on her knee and she covered his large hand with her own finely boned hand. She didn't speak, but he could see that she was listening and waiting for him to continue.

Encouraged, he continued to speak in an attempt to share with her why he couldn't just humor her and agree never to pilot another craft.

"I love the spray in my face and the way that I feel like thirty years has been stripped away from me. When I am out on the water I feel like a young man again with a whole lifetime in front of me. That distance seems charmed, a lifetime waiting to be explored, to be celebrated. I can pretend that I've never been hurt, never been disappointed. When I took you sailing with me that day I was letting you in; letting you in to my life in a way that I never shared with you. I am sorry that it ended so badly. I'm sorry that you're frightened by what happened and that you are afraid of things that won't come to pass."

She struggled to comprehend what he was telling her. She did understood; at least a part of her did. Was how he felt sailing really any different from how she felt when she'd close her eyes on the front steps of Tara and pretend for a moment that her mother would be arriving home any minute or that Gerald was riding his hunter home from a neighbors?

She sighed, toying roughly with the lace edging her cuff. Later when Penny would hang it she would find that the stitching had torn jaggedly, wisely she repaired it without calling Scarlett's attention to it.

"I can't stop you from sailing if you still want to. I won't lie to you and pretend that the thought of you sailing doesn't rip at my heart and scare me half to death, but I can't ask you to give up something that means so much to you. But I am telling you that I don't want Wade or Ella out with you. That's more than I can bear. I won't have it, do you understand me?"

"I wish you'd reconsider."

"Really?" she asked raising her arched brow, "I feel the same way."

"Are you angry?" he asked lifting his hand and gently he stroked her face.

She sighed deeply, "Furious," she said with a small smile that encouraged him to slowly run the pad of his thumb sensuously across her bottom lip.

"Really?" he asked, returning her smile with one of his own.

She sighed softly as he ran the knuckle of his pointer finger lightly back and forth across her cheek. "What do you think?"

"I think that I'd like to kiss you."

"Oh?" Her expression turned coy, "That is a coincidence."

"Is it?"

"It is, I was just thinking that I'd like you to kiss me, but then I reconsidered."

"Why?"

"Because I am positively terrified that kissing me falls under the heading of almost anything I could ask of you but that you'd have to refuse."

He laughed as he rested his hands on either side of her thighs. He pushed down, raising himself up even as she leaned forward till he pressed his lips to hers. He broke away and sat down next to her. "Kissing you, Mrs. Butler, falls under the heading of something you can ask me to do when ever the mood strikes you."

She laughed huskily, "Even on the street? Why Captain Butler, that would be scandalous. No doubt it would damage your reputation quite beyond repair."

"I highly doubt that," he asked dryly but not without a hint of humor. "Sally Brewton is amused beyond measure at my conversion from diffident husband to devoted beau."

"How can you be a beau? We're married, not courting."

"That's where you're wrong my dear, I plan on courting you for the rest of our lives."

She giggled before wrapping her arms around his neck. "Rhett Butler, you sound as though you're the one who's been reading dime novels. No wonder Sally is amused."

"She isn't the only one. Julia Ashley is in real danger of clapping her hands raw at your triumph over my legendary resolve."

"What did I do to win Julia Ashley over? Do you know I've no idea."

"She thinks you're good for me. She warned me that I'd better keep you happy otherwise you might come to your senses and head back to Atlanta."

"I am good for you," she said smugly.

"She also said you were modest."

"And beautiful?"

"That, love, goes without saying."

"But you could say it anyway."

He laughed as he picked her up. "I'd rather show you," he said with a grin.

She glanced at the pilot clock on the mantle. "I'm afraid you'll have to hold onto the thought for later. It's nearly five o'clock."

"Is it? Would you like me to bring you upstairs before I leave."

"Leave? Where are you going?"

"I have a piece of business to attend to, hopefully I won't be long," he said noncommittally.

"What sort of business?"

"Why do you ask?" he questioned playfully.

"Why won't you tell me?"

"Because it's nothing to concern yourself with."

"Does it have to do with the mines?"

"No."

"With Ross?"

"No."

"Why are you being so secretive?", she exclaimed.

"I'm buying some property, at least I'm hoping too.

I just have to see to something before we leave for the Landing. I'd like to go over for a few days at the very least before I leave for Atlanta.

"Here in Charleston?"

"No."

"Fine," she said with a disinterested shrug, "don't tell me. I don't even want to know."

"Are you lying to me?"

"No," she said with a sniff, "Honestly, it's of no consequence to me if you have some secret you don't wish to share with me."

"That's a relief."

"How so?" she asked, annoyed that he hadn't simple told her where he was going.

He laughed as he managed to shift her enough to open the door to her room, "I'm glad to know you won't be disappointed not knowing."


	71. Saint George

**I owe Dani a debt of gratitude. Thank you for sitting through, what was it, 190 revisions. I owe you.**

It was with a critical eye that Rhett examined 114 Broad Street at a quarter after five. He had passed the house numerous times in the past year, but now with time to spare he examined the facade of the house. During the early years of the war, while he had been a dashing well received blockade runner, he had been a frequent guest of it's former owner, Etta Izard..

The house on Broad street that now housed the Archbishop and his staff had once been the home of the Pinckney family. Rosetta Pinckney Izard, called Etta by everyone she was on intimate terms with, had thrown open the doors to the classic revival style house when her husband Ralph had died in 1858.

It had been in the fall of 1861 that he had reacquainted himself with Etta. She had been an endearing young woman when they'd last met, she had been just a year out of her début when he had been tossed out of his father's house. Fifteen years later she was orphaned and widowed and could at last do as she pleased. And she did with a vengeance. She immediately forbid any one a say in her affairs. As far as she was concerned in Rhett's case, he was a hero and thus was welcome in her home, among other places.

Every night the Broad Street house glowed like a welcoming beacon in the night. Dances, recitals, and Confederate dignitaries were now the order of the day. But the party was short lived and in August of 1863, till December 1863 the Confederate commander of the South Carolina Theatre, Gen. Pierre G. T. Beauregard had his headquarters in the house.

After her return in 1866, Etta Izard had been heart sore at the dilapidation that the war and the military had visited on her home. She sold the house to the Catholic Church in the person of the Right Rev. Patrick N. Lynch, the Roman Catholic Bishop of Charleston ad retired to James Island to live with a distant cousin.

Even in it's present state the structure was admittedly impressive with it's triple sashed front windows and topped with a slated gable roof, but it was still not the equal of the original rectory house on the grounds of old saint John's cathedral. 'Hardly the pontifical place the archbishop was once use to', thought Rhett with a upward sweep of his eye.

There were many details that he took into himself, loving them for their familiarity. Charleston, visually, was like no other place on earth. New Orleans with it's French and Spanish influences was heavy with a grandeur and mystique that suited it completely. Atlanta, with it's parched red dust roads and raw, sap bleeding timbered buildings was fading to the recess of his mind after nearly a year in Charleston.

He stock of the characteristics that made the Pinckney house stand out among it's contemporaries. As he studied the house all the small details in need of attention slowly came to the forefront of his attention. The portico of four columns on an arcaded base still supported the elegant balcony, though the paint work on the railing was flaked and in need of a touch up. Several windows were cracked and the shutters that had once hung on either side were gone. Surprisingly, the curving steps on either side had not surrendered their elaborate black ironwork railings to the war effort. Despite it's flaws, it was still beautiful, at least on the outside.

He was glad to see that even after the war there was still something left of the world he had hoped to return to when he'd left Atlanta the previous year. Even in the fading purple gloom of the rapidly approaching twilight, it was obvious that the rich red half brick facade was in excellent repair. From the difference in shades of red, Rhett deduced that many of the bricks had been replaced. Perhaps that was the current improvement project receiving the church's attention...and funds.

Although he was there on Scarlett's business, he was admittedly curious as to the present state of the house's once impeccable interior. Would any traces of it's one elegant existence still be visible, or was it now just a shell of it's former self?

As he waited for a black cassocked cleric to open the wrought iron gates that kept the ecclesiastic dwelling apart from the outside world he reflected on the details that he had already known and combined with the hurried, but still painstakingly though dossier that Aubrey had sent over earlier in the day.

"His grace's office is on the second floor Captain Butler, if you'll just follow me," said a pleasant looking priest with a faint trace of an Irish brogue and a thatch of flame colored hair that marked him as a countryman of the Bishop."You were lucky to be able to get an appointment with his grace, he is leaving to consecrate the new cathedral in Savannah next week."

The priest noticed how Rhett's eyes roved over the interior of the house. "It's a shame isn't it. This must have been a grand place before the war. One day it will be again." The priest stopped before a grouping of mismatched chairs and a long, upholstered bench that Rhett vaguely remembered as having once been in the foyer just past the front door. He gestured politely. "Won't you make yourself comfortable Captain Butler. It might be some time before the Bishop can see you. In the mean time, might I offer you some coffee or tea?"

"Thank you, no. I don't expect to be waiting very long," Rhett smiled archly, "the bishop is expecting me."

With an apologetic smile the priest told Rhett that he would go and announce his arrival, but no doubt it would be a while till the bishop could see him. Before the carved inlayed panel door Rhett waited as the sounds of conversation penetrated it giving him a clear impression of the bishop's annoyance at having to deal with him.

It was of no consequence to him, as Scarlett was fond of saying, whether or not the bishop was pleased at being coerced into selling Careen's share of Tara. Though he might try to forestall Rhett with empty promises or threats, the was only one way for the Archbishop to conclude the business of the See's share of Tara. Sell the share immediately to Scarlett or Rhett would not hesitate to exert an added amount of pressure till the situation reached a favorable conclusion. Well, he though with a self satisfied smirk, favorable for Scarlett at any rate.

The red headed priest opened the office door and for a minute regarded Rhett with a mixture of awe and amusement. "Captain Butler? The bishop will see you now."

The arch-bishop's office was not what one would have imagined in relation to such a powerful man. After all, Archbishop Lynch was the prelate bishop of the entire Archdiocese of South Carolina. His power extended even into Georgia, as he also held authority over the dioceses of Atlanta.

That brought a smile to his lips. When Scarlett had wanted to marry him in the Catholic church she would have had to have her parish priest appeal to the Archdiocese and it's Bishop. Who was, coincidently, the man whose office he now found himself in. 'How serendipitous, 'he thought.

The double chandeliers that had graced the ceiling in the Pinckney's time still hung, but the satin damask curtains and elegant rosewood sofas were gone. The silk paneling was faded and smoke darkened. It was his hope that Etta had never bothered to set foot past the downstairs foyer. That she had been spared the devastation and decline of her home.

The former elegance of the room was gone, vanquished by thrift, efficiency, and a haphazard disarray of books, crates, and sheaves of papers. Piles of books seemed to be holding up the bookcases, not vice versa. Dominated by a long table held up by four squat mahogany filing cabinets, the room was no longer an area for grand entertainments. It was the room of a Spartan planning campaigns waged not against a foreign enemy, but sin and vice.

The man that sat behind the makeshift desk was not as he had pictured from Belle's descriptions and his own preconceived speculations of what the formerly philandering priest would look like. Seeing him in the flesh, the Archbishop could not have better fit his chosen career, at least physically. Bishop Lynch's thinning salt and pepper hair was swept back from his forehead only to spill over his dog collar, just skinning his slightly stooped shoulders. His nose, with it's straight roman bridge, supported a pair of steel rimmed spectacles that only served to magnify his piercing gaze. His was a strong, but not handsome, face that gave away little of the workings of the mind concealed behind it. His mouth alone gave away his feelings about the present situation. His thin, nearly colorless lips were compressed into a tight and humorousness line as he steadily regarded Rhett.

The archbishop glanced down at the papers on his desk before neatly placing his pen in it's stand. Carefully he removed the spectacles that has been perched on the bridge of his nose and nodded to the priest that had brought Rhett to his office. It was with this gesture that he revealed that he did not adore himself in holy relics. The only adornment on his person aside from the plain cross he wore was the heavy iron ring with it's raised seal on his left hand. "Thank you father, you're excused. You will wait for Captain Butler, who will not be staying long." He waited till the door snicked softly before addressing Rhett. "Please, be seated."

Selecting a heavily carved chair to the left of the desk, the only one not currently covered in paper work, Rhett sat, never for a moment breaking eye contact with the Bishop. If the bishop wanted to visually appraise him, then he'd have to do it without the luxury of his own monetary distraction. "It was good of you to take the time to meet with me, no doubt you are busy what with Lent just beginning," he said, his demeanor was differentially polite.

The archbishop's heavy white brows slid upward before he replied reproachfully, "I was under the impression I didn't have a choice."

"There is always a choice," returned Rhett blandly.

"Indeed."

Rhett flashed the bishop a grin, it's origin was traceable to the amusement he felt at sitting here on a mission to win back Tara for Scarlett. 'How unlike me to play the gallant knight, in slightly tarnished armor . I've gone from refusing to help her to hurling enormous sums at a Catholic Archbishop. But it would all be worth it when she unrolled the deed and saw that she was the sole mistress of her childhood home, 'he thought. "Before we begin, I must thank you. Upon reflection, I realize that you made it possible for me to marry Mrs. Butler."

"How do you mean?" he asked, perplexed. He could not recall having ever met the grinning man before him previous to his arrival minutes ago. And as for Mrs. Butler; had he met her before, he would not have forgotten.

"It was you who granted the dispensation that allowed me to marry my wife in the Catholic Church."

"When were you married?" he asked politely.

"May of 1867."

The bishop scoffed. "Your gratitude is misplaced. It would have been Doctor Quigley, the pastor of St. Patrick's Church, that granted permission. I was in Rome then."

"Ah, that's right," said Rhett solicitously. "You were detained for, how long was it, three years after the end of the war. Confederate sympathizes wasn't it?"

The archbishop nodded in agreement before he spoke again. "It was actually a year and a half. But I was elected to the Vatican Council, so I had to return to Rome. In total I was away from the dioceses for just over three years from the time the war ended. Of course, that was in the past. I have no intention of leaving for a long time to come." His next words came as a mild surprise to Rhett, he hadn't thought the archbishop would be the one to directly refer to Belle. "How is Miss Watling?"

Rhett's careless grin at hearing the name of a madam spoken aloud clearly rankled the composure of the bishop. "She's quite well, at least that is the impression I got from her recent letter. She has a new house in Atlanta; she bought it recently. According to her, it's quite the grand establishment."

The bishop folded his hands before replying. "I am not surprised that she is flourishing. She was, as I remember, quite intelligent, despite her wicked profession. I had hoped after she gave birth to her son she would seek out a new profession." He smiled suddenly, but it was without mirth. It did not add warmth to his expression. "As a favor I baptized the boy for her. Several times over the years, when I've said a guest mass at Saint Hildebrandt's in New Orleans, I've seen him. Saint Hildebrandt's parochial school is a fine one, it provides the kind of education that any parent would be pleased to see their son receive. A pity that it's so expensive."

His expression remained neutral. "I've no doubt that Belle has always given her son the very best she could afford," said Rhett.

"The boy is rather like you, physically I mean. A coincidence, I assume?" The comment should have been a just that, a comment. But is the way the bishop phrased it Rhett could hear the implied warning. You tell my secret, I'll tell yours.

The bishop reclined slightly in his hobnail chair. He had bested the scoundrel that had forced his way into an audience and in just a minute he would ring for Father Tate to escort Captain Butler from the premises..

Rhett's easy smile incited dread in the heart of the Archbishop. He was not, at least visibly, disturbed by the fact that the Bishop was suggesting he was Roman Watling's father.

"It's no coincidence that the boy and I share a familiar resemblance. The boy is my cousin's son, although he can not claim him, he has always seen to the boy's education and care." Rhett smirked at the obvious discomfort his admission had caused the Archbishop. It had been obvious that the Archbishop had hoped to quickly turn the tables on his would be blackmailer. That hope had disappeared the instant he had not heatedly denied a connection to Belle's son. "At the time, being a bachelor, I did not have a family that would be shamed if I saw to Roman's upbringing. I'm his guardian. For obvious reasons, I had to step in to help in any way I could if the boy was to have a chance at being viewed by society as respectable. I assume you know why I've asked to meet with you," he continued without pause.

Bishop Lynch frowned, sick with disgust at the matter of fact way the man referred to the bastard son of a prostitute. Not an iota of shame or remorse. So typical of the entitled planter's class he had been born into. "I have a guess, it has to do with a piece of land that was deeded to us by one of the sisters when she came to us as a novitiate. The former Caroline Irene O'Hara. She turned over to the church 1/3 of a farm in Clayton county Georgia as her dowry in 1866. The church took possession the following year when she took the veil."

"You are correct, your Excellency. The land that Careen deeded to the church was her share of the O'Hara plantation, Tara. My wife and her sister, a Mrs. William Benteen, own the other shares."

"Your wife requested a meeting with me nearly a dozen times in the last month alone. When the requests ceased last week I had assumed she'd given up her suit."

"My wife and I had an accident while sailing. That has curtailed her campaign."

He leaned forward slightly in his chair. "That's unfortunate, is she well now?" He asked politely.

"Scarlett was injured, but is recovering. Perhaps you'll say a prayer for her?"

"Tonight after vespers, I'll light a candle in the chapel in hopes of a full recovery. But from that disclosure I assume that she is undeterred in her determination to secure the Holy See's share of her family's farm. That in itself is understandable, perhaps even laudable, but I do object to her enlisting your aid to force my hand."

Rhett shrugged lightly, but his expression did not change at the allusion to Scarlett being the one to ask him to force the See's hand, though it was apparent that the allusion was meant as a thinly veiled insult or at the very least a mark of displeasure. "My wife doesn't know I'm here. She is also unaware of a connection between yourself and Miss Watling."

"Is she aware of your connection to Miss Watling?" he asked coldly.


	72. And the dragon

Rhett flicked a miniscule piece of lint off his sleeve before answering. Through he did not let his mask of nonchalant dismissal slip, it did rank on his conscience that Scarlett had known about Belle. Had known that it had been to Belle that he had run after he had made love to her because the police had called. She knew that it had been to Belle that he had turned after her accident and the loss of their baby, after Bonnie. Scarlett could be surprisingly observant. It was common knowledge that he had spent most of those dark days at Belle's house. Ergo, Scarlett knew, everything.

True, she had turned him out of her bed and her heart to protect her sacrosanct relationship with Ashley Wilkes, but still it must have been galling to know that your husband had replaced you with a barely literate whore as both a confidant and lover. Had he to do it over again he would have dismissed Scarlett's request with a flippant turn of phrase and backhandedly cajoled her into admitting just who had issued the edict dismissing him from his own martial bed.

He grinned, his voice heavy with self-mockery. A casual observer would never be able to penetrate to his inner self. "Sadly, yes. Belle was my mistress throughout a good portion of my marriage."

Bishop Lynch laughed dryly, the rasping noise was wrung unwillingly from his throat. "So, in addition to blackmail you're a practiced adulterer."

With an exaggerated air of amused candor Rhett replied, "As they say; practice makes perfect, your Excellency. If it helps, I am an Episcopalian, so according to the Catholic Church my chances of salvation were nil to begin with."

"Are you attempting to secure your sister-in-law's dowry to salve your conscience over your continued infidelity? You are a singular man, I think. Most men would buy their wives a piece of jewelry or perhaps a fur wrap instead of real estate."

Rhett suppressed a grin. The bishop had given him an idea, jewelry. Something tasteful that Scarlett could wear in Charleston society, but so undoubtedly expensive that the piece would no doubt please Scarlett immensely. Perhaps an opera length strand of Tahitian pearls with their famous jet black luster. Certainly Scarlett would be suitably pleased by such a rarity.

'Yes', he thought, 'black pearls would contrast becomingly with her pale skin. Shreve, Crump & Low in Boston might have something suitable but, more likely than not, he would have to have one of his European agents run this particular errand. Only one jeweler in the world, Garrard's, in England, would stock exactly the sort of piece he wanted. Garrard's by virtue of holding a Royal Warrant and being the oldest jeweler's in the World had items that appealed to a certain cliental. That cliental being comprised of people with both taste and more importantly, means.

It would take at least two days till his agent in London got his cable. From there a day to purchase the necklace, or in the event there was nothing that fulfilled his request, then another day to string the ninety-four pearls that an opera length necklace would require. A silver clasp, he'd specify that if they had to fabricate a necklace they should use a silver filigree clasp. Silver and black would be stunning.

A vague image of Scarlett clad in just a flawless string of black pearls and very little else rose unbidden in his mind and for a long pause that completely consumed his undivided attention as he attempted to hone it from a vague image into a graphic daydream. He would take her to The Charleston Hotel for a night once the necklace arrived. They could have dinner, drink some champagne, then retire to their suite where they could be alone.

The bishop's voice with it's barely discernable trace of a brogue brought him out of his reverie. "Captain Butler? I asked you a question. Do you think that you are attempting to buy church property to appease your wife

Annoyed at being draw away from his contemplative study of just how attractive Scarlett was, and how grateful she was when presented with a piece of jewelry, he answered with barely concealed contempt. "I am not trying to salve my conscience. Scarlett decided to lust after thy neighbor's husband, as it were, and to that end she turned me from her bed. I, in turn, found comfort elsewhere. I feel no guilt over that," he added lying baldly. "According to Cannon law when she refused me my conjugal rights in the hopes of not conceiving again, our marriage ceased to be valid in the eyes of the church."

He smirked before speaking causally. Rhett's voice, while controlled was still interwoven with a hint of something else that the Archbishop could not readily identify. Perhaps only Scarlett herself, as a survivor of countless verbal altercations with him, would have been able to dissect his words and find the real motive concealed in employing them. "I believe it is Cannon law 1096 that states, 'For matrimonial consent to exist, it is necessary that the contracting parties be not ignorant of the fact that marriage is a permanent partnership between a man and a woman, ordered to the procreation of children through sexual cooperation. To decide to set aside this partnership is to set aside the union itself."

Bishop Lynch glowered fiercely. "There are only three reasons for a man to memorize Canonic law. When training to become a priest, a lawyer, or a divorcee. Are you buying this land in lieu of a divorce settlement? Because while you are correct in what Cannon law states, an ecclesial court may take years to come to a decision. And even if they decide in your favor, Mrs. Butler could appeal to Rome." He smiled grimly. "And it would be a sublime pleasure for me to personally plead her case in the Vatican Consul before the Cardinals. Your wife is a young woman, no doubt she would be widowed long before she was divorced."

"Your concern for one of your parishioners does you credit," he said with a mocking twist of his lips that under friendlier circumstances could have almost been called a smile. "My wife has since decided that I am welcome once more in her bed. I would have never looked for company elsewhere if she hadn't turned me away. As long as I am welcome in her bed, I have neither the desire nor the inclination to seek company elsewhere."

'Clearly', thought the bishop, 'guilt was not a tact that would work on the arrogant blackguard before him. Surely he had an Achilles heel that could be exposed and slashed to even the playing pitch. He did not seem to be perturbed by slings to his person and morals. But, all men have a weakness to which they can not help but be subjugated through.'

The bishop's face changed then, softening in the gaslight for an instant before it hardened once again. But change it had and Rhett waited to see what tact the Bishop would next attempt to take. "Your wife is an unusual woman," he said, admiration creeping into his voice. "A beautiful woman, but more than that, I think. A great many women are beautiful. Indeed, a number of women are both unique in their beauty and yet they are the same in that instance. For, they are often nothing more that their sense of their face and form. They age and it becomes clear that they are mortal Helens and not ethereal Aphrodites. Mrs. Butler is something more. It's a French phrase, but it escapes me at present. My French is rusty, it has been, you understand, a great many years since I was immersed in the language in New Orleans." He beamed benevolently, "Well, Latin serves me as well. Mirabile visu, I believe is the phrase that is close enough to what I was racking my brain for. Something wonderful to behold, to be precise. "

Rhett's eyebrows drew together as he scented the air. There was something to the bishop's discourse. In it was the tang of sedation. His voice was low, the malice in it unmistakable. "Scarlett told me that you declined to met with her. Yet, you seem very familiar with her. How is it you are so familiar with my wife, your grace?"

Bishop Lynch's reply was enigmatic. "I haven't met with her," he paused, significantly, "at least not officially."

"Not officially?" A muscle twitched in Rhett's jaw at the vagueness of the Archbishop's reply.

"When your wife began to make weekly pilgrimages to the convent school to visit Sister Mary Joseph and to harangue Mother Superior about the possibility of meeting with me, I'll admit, that piqued my curiosity. The church is not in the habit of exchanging a sister's dowry for cash. Surely, as a Catholic, Mrs. Butler was aware of this, but she continued to request an meeting with me. And request is a polite distortion of the manner in which she appealed to Mother Superior. I will admit to having misjudged her tenacity. I believed that eventually she would accept defeat and I would hear no more on the matter. But she did not concede. She was driving Mother Ursula to distraction till finally, I decided that I would speak with her, to gauge the true intent of her motives. In the fullness of time, I would speak to her several times, but not in the capacity she sought me in."

Rhett's dark face was a bland, cold mask. "What capacity did you speak to her in?" he asked.

"I heard her confession. Or rather, I should say, confessions. I told Mother Superior that I was not able to met with Mrs. Butler, but to tell her that I advised her that confession is good for the soul. She was so bent on trying to impress upon anyone who'd pay notice her devotion to the practices of our faith. I was fairly certain that she would take the suggestion to heart and make her confession before leaving that day. I stationed myself in the confessional and waited."

"Confession?" asked Rhett sarcastically, "I wasn't aware that one of the duties of an Archbishop was to hear confession."

The bishop only smiled enigmatically, "I still do, on occasion; during this, the Lenten season certainly and before Christmas. A very busy time is Christmas. I am fairly involved in the actual day to day activities of the church. Saint John's is my parish. I have obligations to it. On occasion I offer to have Pre-Cana classes for young couples."

"What did you take away from hearing my wife's confessions?"

"That is neither my place to tell, nor yours to hear. Confession is sacrament, one of the most sacred. Perhaps," he mused, "it is the most sacred. It is the priest that is the conduit between petitioner and deity. Confession must be made with a clear intent toward striving to be forgiven."

"So you forgave Scarlett her sins instead of meeting with her to discuss the deed to Tara? That seems a little labyrinthine. Why not simply meet with her?"

The bishop ignored Rhett's dig at his duplicitous handling of Scarlett. He instead continued to discuss confession. "Catholics believe that no priest, as an individual man, however pious, has the power to forgive sins. God can forgive sins and does exercise his forgiveness through the Catholic priesthood. Thus Confession must exist in a state in which there is no fear of revelations or recriminations at the hands of the confessor."

Rhett could not hide his amusement at the bishop's blatant hypocrisy or his attempt to avoid Rhett's straightforward question with a circuitously palaver on the act of Confession. "Certainly, I know how truly pious you are, as does Belle."

"What I did with Miss Watling was a mortal sin. One which I came to regret. When I took my vows I gave myself, body and soul, to the Lord. When I committed sins of the flesh I was doing more than that, I was taking away from the Lord something that was no longer mine to lay claim to. The ecstasies of the flesh are fleeting compared to the rewards of the soul one receives from serving God and the Church. I made what is known as a perfect contrition Mister Butler. I made my confession, not out of fear of Hell, but out of a love of God. Consorting with whores in low places instead of ministering to these women was a sin which I've since tried to atone for. I confessed my sins and was forgiven, and in turn I heard your wife's confession and offered her absolution."

"So currently my wife is in state of grace?" asked Rhett incredulously. "She must have been here for hours to get every last blemish off of her immortal soul.

The bishop squared his shoulders and raised an eyebrow to regard Rhett with a blank look of polite indifference. "I can not comment as to the state of your wife's immortal soul, nor would I wish to. For Catholic priests, the confidentiality of all statements made by penitents during the course of confession is absolute." His voice rose slightly, his intent was obvious. He was taunting Rhett without actually becoming confrontational. "Being an Episcopalian, you may not be familiar with this strict confidentiality, it is known as the Seal of the Confessional."

"You keep referring to my status as an Episcopalian. I assure you, we aren't cannibals or savages."

Bishop Lynch temper broke. He had been the scourge of seminary. No one could rile him to anger through common methods. He was placid and calm. The picture of a man one day bound for canonization. He took that to an extreme, for when his self-control broke he was formable. His tongue sharp and his wit unparallel. His eyes were serpentine as he leveled his leaden gaze on Rhett. "Captain Butler, let me only say this before we conclude our business here. I see you for who you are. Quite clearly. You wish to present yourself as a reformed rake who has returned to do penance for his previous misdeeds. You may go to mass and sit and stand in the right places, but that does not make a man of faith. You might as well be a savage in the wilderness for all the good attending church does you," he said. "God knows what is in your heart just as I know what is in your mind," declared venomously.

Rhett causally reclined in his chair. He rested his ankle on his knee before forming a steeple out of his fingers. He movements were unhurried and finally he returned his attention to the bishop who was impatiently waiting for some kind of reaction to his intentional barb.

Rhett causally reclined in his chair. He rested his ankle on his knee before forming a steeple out of his fingers. He movements were unhurried and finally he returned his attention to the bishop who was impatiently waiting for some kind of reaction to his intentional barb.

"I imagine your rather astute observations aren't simply based on the time we've spent together this last hour?" Rhett suddenly smiled then, an open and friendly smile that would be more at home shared between two old friends than two adversarial parties.

The bishop's pinched lips and narrowed eyes only caused the smile to widen into an amused grin. "You're surprised?" question Rhett innocently. "I do completely acknowledge the validity of your statement, but I suspect that it doesn't just come from your meeting here with me tonight. Are you sitting in judgment of my moral and spiritual shortcomings based on personal observation or what Scarlett told you," the playful smirk left his face to be replaced with a look of dark, but controlled animosity, "or rather what she told an anonymous priest in the secrecy of your highly touted Catholic sacramental confession?"

"Your wife came to the confessional wishing to impress upon me her devotion to the church. But she took the time to unburden herself. I heard her confession, in good faith. But as I told you, I admit that I had an ulterior motive in wanting to hear her confession. I wanted to know what kind of woman would come to try and reclaim her sister's dowry from the church. Her sister gave us that property because it meant something to her to." His heavy brow lowered pensively, "Your wife is markedly selfish in that respect. She assumes that land only means something to her and to her alone."

"Tara signifies all those who came before Scarlett and her son, who will continue to see to it's continued success after her. You yourself are Irish. I've never known an Irishman who does not place a great deal of significance on land. Not for what it is worth, but for what it is. A tie to the past and a link with the future. If she truly unburdened her soul to you, as you so elegantly put it, you know exactly what she's done to ensure that Tara would survive."

"I won't be baited into a conversation about what I was told in confession. The sacramental seal is inviolable; therefore it is absolutely forbidden for a confessor to betray in any way a penitent in words or in any manner and for any reason. I knew though, after hearing her confessions, that I would never met her face to face. That I could not sit across from her and listed to her state her case without bias or temptation. I backslid into sin once, I will not have it rear it's ugly head once more. I could not doubt my own judgment. Could never ask myself had I sold her the share because it was the right thing to do or was it because she sparked something that I thought I had overcome. A desire of the flesh."

He rose from his desk and made his way to the window. For several minutes he stared out the windows at Charleston. The purple glooming had faded to night. In the distance the steeple of Saint Mary's was visible, illuminated by the low hanging moon. Saint John's would have once been visible, rising above the other roof tops, dwarfing all the surrounding buildings. But it was gone, burned in the fire of 1861.

The archbishop glanced over Rhett head at the seal of the See on the Wall. "Do you know much about astronomy, Captain Butler?"

Rhett shrugged, his body language clearly stating his rapidly waning interest in the conversation and the company. "My experience with astronomy is more in the practical sector. In relation to it's role in navigation in open water."

"Look how bright the moon is tonight. It's a interest of mine, astronomy. It's a skill that one is encouraged to cultivate while in seminary. So many of our most important Holy days are figured in congruity with the phases of the moon. In the Gregorian calendar, the date of Easter is the first Sunday after the ecclesiastical full moon which occurs after the ecclesiastical vernal equinox. The full moon tonight is the Lenten Moon. It's the last full moon before March 21st. I've always though that on quiet nights when the stars look so close that a man could reach and touch them, it is the closest one can come to understanding the nature of faith. The moon waxes, the moon wanes. Sometimes I believe this to be the only consistency in an ever changing world."

Rhett heaved an exaggerated sigh. "This is terribly interesting. No, strike that. I wouldn't want to lie to a man of the cloth. This is mind numbing. Why don't we come to a end. I have other obligations this evening."

"No doubt you know of the difficulties the diocese currently faces. I doubt you came here without at least a rudimentary understanding of the current position the parish is in. We are deeply in debt. Saint John's was destroyed in the fire of 1861 and with it the archives and library. My own residence was lost. Saint Ursula's, the convent was burned during the war along with it's school. I owe many parishioners a great deal of money as they entrusted it to the church during the war. I don't have their money and it is all I can do to continue to make restitution. The reality of my situation is this. You want this piece of property, you've offered me an enormous amount of money for it. Far more than it's value. I wonder what is it that makes Tara so valuable to your wife, to Sister Mary Joseph, even to you; it must be very special."

"It is Scarlett's Mount Arafat, to her Tara doesn't have a dollar value. She loves that land. It's something that she wants and I find in my power to give to her. To show her..." he stopped abruptly, realizing that he was about to disclose far more than he'd intended.

The bishop toyed with the curtain or a moment before tugging it closed, obscuring the view of Charleston. "It can't be such a sacred and profound love if you have to assign a monetary value on it. Buying land won't buy you your wife's love."

Rhett rose to his feet. "I don't need to buy her love. What I need to buy is Careen O'Hara's share of Tara. If not from you, then your successor."

"I will release Sister Mary Joseph's dowry. I only hope it brings your wife the happiness both you and she believe it will."

Rhett smiled, his teeth gleaming white in contrast to his tan, swarthy face. "I felt sure that I could count of a man of God to do the right thing."

"I trust that once I sign these papers I will never need worry about further entreaties from the Butler family?"

He bowed gracefully. "I'll have my lawyer send over the papers to transfer ownership in the morning," he said, neglecting to confirm or deny that the Butlers would contact him in the future.

"It will take a week," warned Bishop Lynch, "at least, to finalize everything."

"The papers will be here in the morning. How quickly you chose to address them is your own business. Just as how I chose to address your punctuality in returning them is mine. Good evening your grace."


	73. Saints

**Thank you for the correction, damn spell check always wants to change his name. It was on auto correct so I have to mess with it.**

It was with a trace of hesitation that Father Lyons approached the lone figure sitting on a stone bench at the back of the Broad Street property. In the moonlight the seated figure's shock of thick silver hair glowed surreally, like a halo made of moonbeams. The acrid smoke from a three cent cigar drifted in to Father Lyons nostrils and he coughed, pointedly.

The short, stocky man smoking the cigar laughed gently. "Ach, Athair Lyons, surely you aren't so cruel as to be denying me a little respite? I've gone as far away from the house as I can. Can I help it if I enjoy a cigar now and again? But, if you like, I'll put it out."

Father Lyons gestured lightly with his hand. "Not on my account Father. The bishop was looking for you just now."

The other priest laughed genially. "And did you tell him where I was?"

"No. I wasn't exactly sure where you were so it wasn't a lie," his forehead wrinkled, "Per say."

"Go mbeannaí Dia is Muire duit."

"I took away God and Mary from that. You know, I speak about nine words of Irish."

"It means 'The blessings of God and Mary on you." He smiled as he looked out into the night. "Now you know four more words. It's speaking Irish that pleases me most about America. I know you and the younger Fathers don't understand how much it means to myself and Father Kavanagh and Deacon Keane to be able to speak it if we so chose. I remember as a child that my father demanded my grandmother stop teaching my brothers and I the Irish tongue. My own mother was breaking the law when she would read to us the bible in Irish.."

"But it isn't illegal in Ireland now," replied the younger man innocently. He had left Ireland for America at the age of four and had never returned. Although he had been raised in the Irish slums of Savannah ,he felt no real connection with the land of his birth, nor it's trials and turmoil's. The older fathers of the Archbishops staff were Irish for the most part, but they were all years older that Father Lyons. Ireland was in their blood and in their thoughts, constantly. It was an obsession that defied his understanding, a world as foreign to him as the moon and nearly as distant.

"It may as well be illegal for all the British government does to squelch the teaching of Irish, hell for all they do to stop the teaching of the Irish people," he drew harshly on the cigar and nearly spit a stream of smoke from his mouth an instant later. His only faintly accented English went through a metamorphosis till his next words came forth shaded by a heavy brogue. "Tis' only a matter of time my lad, before our people rise up and chase those bastards back to England." He flicked the head of ashes from his cigar forcefully, "Only a matter time, "he repeated softly, more to himself than for Father Lyons benefit.

"For the love of the son's mother," groaned Father Lyons, "Don't let Bishop Lynch hear you go on about a free Ireland like that. The Bishop himself has said that what ever happens, politically, in Ireland is none of our concern."

The older man laughed, dropping the cigar end in a bucket of sand that was kept near the bench for that specific purpose ."Paddy Lynch is so busy looking toward his future he forgets where his past lie. Sure and he'll turn a blind eye to what's going on back home for he doesn't want to know about anything that won't help see him become a Cardinal. It's not enough for him to be included in _sancta synodus, _no our Paddy Lynch is determined to sit in the College of Cardinals when Pius goes to meet our Lord. Pius is nearly eighty two. He's been the reigning Pope for over fifteen years. He can't continue forever an' you could bet down to the last shillin' in your pocket that," his voice sharpened till all traces of his Irish heritage were obliterated by perfectly enunciated words of disgusted amusement. "The Archbishop Patrick Lynch has every intention on kneeling near Pius's bier with the other tall hats to hear that poor old man gasp out his last Hail Mary."

"If you dislike the Archbishop so much why stay on his staff?" asked Father Lyons, a hint of disapproval was apparent in both his stance and tone.

"Smooth your ruffled feather father goose. I don't speak like this where anyone can hear me, save yourself and a precious few others that I trust. The fact is Bishop Lynch doesn't give a tinker's damn for what's going on in Ireland. There's many of us that thought he would extend himself on her behalf, but thusly he hasn't, and so we've come to realize nor will he. Not after the fiasco with his support of the Confederates."

"Will you ever return to Ireland?"

"Yes," said the older man with a fond smile. "Hopefully sooner than later. Though that's between you and I. But now to change the subject, did the bishop's guest, it was a Captain Butler leave?"

Father Lyons youthful face registered surprise and admiration. "He did, about 25 minutes ago. How did you know he was here?"

"I saw him come up the walk. You were the one who brought him up to the Bishops office?"

"I did. Speaking of the Bishop, he did instruct me to inform him the minute you returned."

"Aye, and I know just what he wants. Which is why I've not returned to the house, yet. Satisfy my curiosity first and then I'll go and allow the Bishop to give me that disapproving stare I know he is saving just for me. Did the Captain look pleased when he was leaving?"

"I don't quite know Father. He looked smug."

"Then he got what he was after. Maith thú."

Father Lyons chuckled. "I know that turn of phrase from playing checkers with Father Roy. Well done indeed. Not for anyone who has to deal with the Bishop the next few days. He is in a foul mood. When I brought in his tea tray he yelled at me."

"I would imagine. He doesn't drink tea."

"And don't you think that I know that. I've been bringing him his evening tray every night for nearly two years. When I tried to remind him of that when he ordered the tray he told me to stop my mouth and fetch the tray. When I brought the tea he yelled that he doesn't drink tea. He is in the most argumentative mood I've ever seen him in."

The stocky man rose from the bench and after brushing some errant flakes of ash from his black cassock he began walking along the crushed oyster and clam shell path to the large house occupied by the bishop and his staff. "And somehow this is going to become my concern." In an undertone he added, "I, for one, am glad that the lass got what she was after."

Father Lyons looked speculatively at his companion. "What is it that Captain Butler wanted with the Bishop? I've seen people wait for hours to speak with him, but Captain Butler was expected. And immediately admitted to the Bishops office. And his appointment only entered the book a few days ago. All of it is very queer, at least in my opinion."

"That's all none of your concern. Nor should you be blabbing about this to anyone besides myself."

"I have never," the younger man gestured ironically, "blabbed to anyone in my life."

"Just one of your many virtues laddie."

Father Lyons grinned, "Ach, and saints be praised," he said, mimicking the other man's brogue, "sure and you aren't paying me false praise, are you Colum O'Hara?"

"Not on pain of death would I dole out false praise," replied Colum, with a wink and a smile. "Now, off you get. I have to go upstairs and allow the Bishop to vent his ire on my poor self. And if I'm any judge you'll not want to be seen with me. The Bishop will be looking for blood no doubt, and I doubt he cares for it's source be it guilty or innocent."


	74. Perceptions

**I have to ask, being a stickler for corrections when found, SS (the annon review for this chapter), part of your review made it sound as though I had major mispellings. I could only find one word that must have slipped by my notice. How many spelling errors did you find and what are they so that I can correct them...bearing in mind that the word grandmama is in fact supposed to be grandmama. Thank you.**

The sound of her voice drifting out of the partially ajar doors of the front sitting room swept all feelings of elation concerning his victory over the errant bishop from his mind in a spilt second.

He had left her upstairs when he went to the bishop's house. How had she managed to get herself downstairs? The obvious answer to that was that she must have some how cajoled Mango into carrying her down as she was still unable to fully support herself and Wade certainly was not able to support her weight to the extreme she would require to transport her down the front stairs. Neither Rosemary, nor his mother would have helped her flaunt Doctor Cross's orders.

She was supposed to be on bed rest with limited times that she could be out of bed and over the course of the day she had exhausted that time and then some, before he had even left the house. And yet, here she was, downstairs with the family, without a single regard toward her still fragile health.

It wasn't a complete surprise that she had disregarded Doctor Cross's orders, but he was slightly disappointed that neither his mother nor sister had stood up to Scarlett. For even if they had not acted in collusion with her in regards to getting down the stairs, they had not sent her back to bed. He grinned fondly, though the worry lines around his mouth did not disappear, they did soften slightly. It would seem that Scarlett was well on her way to asserting her own opinions once again.

Since she had arrived in Charleston she had been charming and demure. Deferential to his mother and polite to his sister. A perfect model of a young, well bred matron. There had been one or two slips, most glaring her flirting with Middleton Courtney to draw attention, specifically her husband's attention, but on the whole she had behaved as though she hadn't an opinion on anything if it contradicted her husband's or mother-in -law's own.

He heard Ella's still childishly shrill voice, though the words were intelligible, the feelings behind the words came though. Scarlett began to laugh again. He would know her lyrical laughter anywhere. She sounded so at ease, but he knew the instant he showed himself her pointed chin would tilt up and her eyes would widen with what would appear to be the very essence of innocence. She would not see anything wrong with her presence in the sitting room.

And for that streak of stubborn willfulness, he loved her. He loved her obstinate, pigheaded determination. It was what had saved her so many times in the past from disaster, but for the time being she needed to learn to lean on other people, to lean on him. His mouth turned down at one corner. If only he could have given her that damn money. That had been the major turning point for Scarlett O'Hara. The point when she must have come to the conclusion that if she were to survive, she would only ever be able to rely on herself.

He moved toward the doors, prepared to sweep her into his arms and once he got her upstairs, he would make her swear that she would abide by Doctor Cross's instructions till he said otherwise, but a second voice froze him to inaction.

"So the Emperor turned to Mister Mann and said, I am well aware of what it is to be in hot potato," said Doctor Cross.

"Potato? asked Rosemary. "I'm sure I don't understand."

"Neither did Mister Mann. The emperor meant to employ the phrase in hot soup. He mixed up the French word for soup, potage, with the word potato. Poor Mister Man thought that 'in a hot potato' was a French phrase and he proceeded to use it several times during his visit."

"Oh, the poor thing," said Rosemary, giggling appreciatively.

Quietly, so as to make the most impact with his entrance Rhett gently pushed open the door to the sitting room. The room's occupant's were oblivious to his presence. "I've found that," drawled Rhett causally from the door, "French is such a complicated language." His face remained without expression as he addressed a pseudo greeting to the man standing at the focal point of the room, before the fire place. "Good evening Doctor Cross, has it been three days already? Time does fly."

"Good evening Captain Butler." Doctor Cross smiled benignly. His eyes flicked toward Scarlett before he spoke again. "I finished my portion of the conference early. I had just wanted to stop by on my way home. Well, truth be told, I did stop at the house first. I had a gift for Scarlett."

Rhett turned his attention to his pale, slim wife. She sat on the burgundy mirror back couch that had been brought over, at his mother's insistence from the Landing. She did not meet his inquiring gaze. Instead she only toyed with her sleeve, a nervous habit that had seemed to reassert itself once more since she had arrived in Charleston.

Damn her, he thought, never allowing his face to reflect his angry disapproval. Surely she must have known what his reaction to finding his family playing audience to the man that irritated him to no end would be. But, she had still allowed Cross to bring her downstairs, to carry her in his arms just as he had done only hours before.

Sitting next to her, in a gown that he recalled as belonging to his wife sat his equally apprehensive looking sister. Rosemary glanced at his brother and he could see that she immediately regretted it. "Good evening Rosemary. That dress suits you, it looks as though it was made for you. In fact I couldn't imagine it suiting anyone but you."

Scarlett's green eyes met Rhett's own blank, flat dark eyes with some visible trepidation in her emerald eyes. She met his bland, controled stare with her own brave gaze. "Did you take care of your mysterious piece of business," she asked with a forced smile.

He was angry with her, but honestly, why did he insist on creating turmoil where there was none. It wasn't her fault that Doctor Cross had dropped by unexpectedly. After examining her, he had reversed his earlier stance on continued bed rest and told her the more time she could spend on her feet, learning to support herself unaided, the better. Being released from bed rest she had insisted, when Rhett returned from where ever he had gone off to, she would be waiting for him in the front room. She wanted him to come home to find her surrounded by their family, not lying forlorn and sickly like a virtual invalid.

Something flickered in his dark eyes, but it came and went far too quickly for her to weigh it against his present mood. "I did, but it isn't half so mysterious a piece of business as what I see before me is. How exactly did you get down here?'

She smiled brashly and from the concealing folds of her gown she lifted an ornately carved cane. "Doctor Cross arrived shortly after you left. He has released me from further bed rest and so I've been practicing getting about with this," she waggled the cane gently.

Rhett nodded his head casually, trying not to show the emotions that were boiling just below his surface countenance of reserved detachment. He could see that she was still embarrassed by the need to employ a cane. She needed a cane because of him. Because of his carelessness. Here he stood, judging her, condemning her for allowing Doctor Cross access to their children, to her. Yet, she had never blamed him for what happened, for his lack of judgment. He smiled, slightly, encouraging her to continue.

She returned his smile with an expression that was filled with so much love that the rest of the anger and disapproval he had felt at finding Doctor Cross present dissipated. "Doctor Cross was right after all," she ventured, "now that the influenza seems to have run it's course, I'm feeling remarkably better. My balance is a little shaky, but I am positive that I just need a little more practice. You'll see I'll be fine in no time. Why I managed the stairs just fine. Oh, it was a little daunting at first, but..."

"You made it down the stairs on a cane?" he asked. His tone was calm, but Scarlett could see the way the muscle in his jaw had tensed at the thought of her and her faulty balance on the steep front staircase.

"Doctor Cross helped mama down Uncle Rhett. I helped too, by holding up the bottom of mama's dress so she wouldn't trip," said Ella excitedly from her position at Scarlett's feet. The child sat on one of the decorative pillows that were normally arranged in the window seat. "Doctor Cross said I can be mama's nurse. Did you know that mama was a nurse during the war?"

Rhett was able to ignore the grating presence of Doctor Cross as the image of Scarlett declaring how she couldn't refuse his bid on her at the ball during the war conjured itself up from the recesses of his mind. She had tried to claim that it was because of the large amount he had offered and at the same time she'd tried to deny that her acceptance had anything to do with the fact that she had wanted nothing more that to dance. "I did know that Ella. As I recall, your mother was willing to do just about anything to help support the hospital, isn't that right my dear?"

She raised a delicately arched eyebrow. She saw the warm light in his eyes had returned and as her eyes caught his, a warm lazy smile spread across his face, signaling her out as if they were the only two people in the room. What ever had been bothering him had obviously run it's course. Boldly he ran his eyes up and down her body, bringing a flush of color to her cheeks. Her heart leapt at the memory of how his hand had felt, curved at the small of her back as he had led her through the motions of the opening reel. "Absolutely. But, when it came to making generous donations to the hospital I could never hope to compare with Uncle Rhett. Although," she grinned playfully, "I seem to remember hearing somewhere that money can't buy everything. Certainly not love or happiness. I wonder where I heard that? I'm sure I didn't come up with that," she cocked her head to the side, feigning confusion, "what's the word I'm looking for?"

Rhett grinned suddenly, "Platitude?"

Scarlett graced him with a regal nod, but her smile was warm and hinted at a promise of things to come. "That's exactly it. Thank you." She turned her attention to Miss Eleanor who was crocheting a piece of trim for a dress for Ella. "Have you ever heard that Miss Eleanor?" she asked, attempting to draw her into conversation.

"What darling, that money can't buy happiness?" Miss Eleanor slid her crochet hook through the piece she was working on. "I suppose it can't. It can buy the necessities and it does make life a lot easier, but in the end I suppose money can't buy happiness or love."

Rosemary turned her attention to Doctor Cross who was leaning against the mantle observing the conversation in the cool, detached manner she was coming to recognize in him. He had barely acknowledged her since arriving earlier. Certainly he could at least given her some hint that he was happy to see her, to be in the same room with her. Some little sign that she could cradle in her mind at night to give her strength. But, perhaps he wasn't falling in love with her. Perhaps he had just been toying with her emotions? Maybe Rhett was right about the Crosses. What if he had just been toying with her in an attempt to anger Rhett?

But, what if she was simply over reacting. Could it be that he was only trying to keep their burgeoning romance a secret? There were so many conflicting emotions, fluttering in her breast like a thousand sparrows startled into flight by a sudden motion.

It was with some slight annoyance at his caviler behavior that she addressed him with the same bland arrogance that Rhett seemed to always be able to use to his advantage, "Care to render an opinion Doctor Cross? Surely since you've spent a great deal of time in France where l'amour is a topic of intense discussion, do you think money is an adequate substitute for love and happiness?"

The Doctor shrugged elegantly. "I've never been in love, so I can not say from personal experience." He continued to direct his attention toward Rosemary. "The French see love and happiness to be the epitome of what there is to strive towards in life. At least those that I knew. However, it is only fair to add that the majority of people I was in contact with on a daily basis were already wealthy or on their way to being wealthy, so I would be inclined to think that it is easier to express the sentiment that love is the greatest thing one can give and possession in return, when one has a full wallet."

"How terribly jaded," murmured Rosemary, a note of reproach was there just below the careless way she offered her opinion of Doctor Cross's words.

"Perhaps," he agreed. "But, I didn't say that I would not like to fall in love. Only that I've never been in love."

"You've never come close?" she returned pointedly.

"Rosemary, you're being rude," remarked Miss Eleanor, gently chiding Rosemary as she continued her chain.

Rosemary compressed her lips into a thin line. "I apologize Doctor Cross. I hope that one day you find love."

"Maybe, it will find me?" he said softly.

Rhett studied the Doctor, Julia Ashley's words from the previous week played in his mind, could she be right, did Rosemary feel something for a Cross. And judging from his enigmatic response could it be that Jason Cross returned her affections with emotions of his own? He would have dwelt further on the topic, but a comment from Ella caught his attention.

"I think Wade is in love with Caroline," ventured Ella with a giggle.

"Ella," squealed Wade, from his position in the window seat. He had sat up so quickly that his book flew from his lap, sliding to the floor, "That's not true. What in the world would make you say something so...so...ridiculous?"

Ella giggled. "Because you've talked about her all day."

Wade was clearly agitated by his sister's comment. He seemed nearly ready to explode. "I have not talked about her all day."

"Did too, and that means you love her 'cause Uncle Rhett talks about mama all the time and he loves her," said Ella in her most matter of fact voice.

"Yes, but Uncle Rhett doesn't call mother rude and overbearing when he describes her," replied Wade in a huff. It was only a few seconds later when Wade finally realized that the adults were all watching their exchange. "Sorry mother, " he mumbled, he dropped his chin toward his thin chest before coloring guiltily.

Scarlett began to giggle, helpless to stop it, as embarrassment colored her sons pale cheeks. The giggles built to laughter and before she knew it she had tears running down her cheeks. She gasped slightly at the ache in her ribs, but poor Wade looked so downcast at the thought that he might have insulted his mother with what was the truth. Rhett had described her many times in the past as rude and overbearing, and what further added to her merriment were the odds that he would be likely to describe her with those exact words again in the future.

"I don't get the joke, am I missing something," asked Doctor Cross mildly.

She could feel him behind her and without turning Scarlett held out her hand. Rhett placed the handkerchief he had just withdrawn from his pocket in her proffered hand. She wiped her eyes. She smiled in Wade's direction. Feeling his mother's attention on him Wade raised his head and smiled nervously. "Not especially, and Wade, perhaps Caroline is simply forthright and assertive?"

"Which," said Rhett with a wicked smile, "could not at all possibly be misconstrued as rude and overbearing."

"Not at all," Scarlett replied primly. She glanced at the mantle clock. "Children, it's nearly 8. I want you both upstairs. Ella, you go straight to bed. You and I have a busy day tomorrow. Wade, you may read till nine. Not a minute later, not a paragraph over."

Rhett met his sister's amused expression with a grin. Scarlett's instructions for bedtime came in a voice that bespoke authority, but could also be easily described as overbearing.

Sliding from the window seat to the floor, Wade gathered up his book and the pad of paper that he had been scribbling on. He kissed his mother who was followed by Rosemary and in a moment of daring he made his way over to Miss Eleanor. Moving with a great deal of grace, in a fashion that was reminiscent of his mother, he brushed a kiss on her cheek. "Good night," he hesitated for a moment before he added, "grandmama."

She smiled at him, realizing just what it had taken the young man before her to make such a gesture. "Good night dear, sleep well."

Wade offered his hand to Doctor Cross and speaking politely, he thanked the doctor for helping his mother. Doctor Cross rewarded Wade's gratitude with a rare smile.

"Good night, Mister Hamilton," replied Doctor Cross.

Wade beamed at the doctor's form of address. Mister. It made him feel ten feet tall. After wishing Rhett a pleasant evening Wade left the room. Normally he would have waited for Ella, but presently he was a little annoyed at her claiming that he loved Caroline Greer.

Ella's goodnight were of a more exuberant nature. She gave her stepfather a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek before kissing Miss Eleanor and hugging Rosemary. She offered a cheery goodnight to Doctor Cross who smiled and told her what a fine nurse she had made. At last she came to Scarlett whom she stood before, her face solemn, her brow wrinkling slightly.

"Ella? What is it?" Scarlett's voice caught in her throat, "Don't you want to kiss me goodnight?"

"I don't want to hurt you again so I want to think about how I should do it first."

"Oh Ella," her eyes teared unexpectedly. The little girl who she had so repeatedly ignored and wronged in the past loved her so deeply that she was trying to suppress her normally high-strung temperament. "Sweetheart," she opened her arm and gingerly Ella came into them. Scarlett squeezed her tightly and whispered in her daughter's ear, "I'm so glad you're here, I was awful lonely without my little girl."


	75. The Divine Comedy

**For Dani, Brandy, and Kendra...without them there would be no Facing the Enemy. It has been one year now since I started FTE. Thank you to all my constant readers, Happy Anniversary Facing the Enemy.**

Clearing her throat gently, Eleanor put her handiwork in her tapestry bag. She still had things that needed her attention before she retired for the night, but if she were to leave Rosemary behind there was every chance that she might say or do something that would betray her feelings for Doctor Cross. If her earlier comment hadn't made Rhett suspicious, then she has severely underestimated her eldest son. How he would address those suspicions, she could not begin to guess. Either he would brush it off as his sister speaking out of turn, or he would begin to observe Rosemary till he arrived at a conclusion.

It was with real effort that she kept the benign, ladylike smile on her face. As the anxiety within her built, it felt as though she had opened an oven door as a wave of warmth washed over her face. Knowing Rhett the way she did, it was only a matter of time till he discovered his sister's feelings for the namesake of the man whose death had been the final blow to Rhett's place in Charleston society.

Currently they were living on the edge of disaster. In the morning she would speak to Rhett about giving Rosemary a sort of Grand Tour. When Rosemary finally left for Europe, then she could breath easier. In the mean time, it was imperative that she keep Rosemary as far away from Jason Cross as she could.

"Rosemary, why don't you bring Ella upstairs for Scarlett." She rose from her seat "If you will all excuse me, Carlen is waiting for me to approve her marketing list. Good evening Doctor Cross."

He took her hand and bent low over it to kiss the back of it. "It was a pleasure to see you again Mrs. Butler." He lifted his eyes to hers and then smiled pleasantly. Without thinking she reacted, returning his smile. "I'll see you at the board meeting for the Widows and Orphans, won't I?"

"Yes, certainly," she replied. He squeezed her hand lightly in his own,

It was hard to take an accurate measure of Doctor Cross as a man, thought Eleanor. She didn't like him, she was sure that he had an agenda far beyond treating Scarlett, but there were moments when he was so charming that she forgot what is was she felt sure she knew about the true nature of his character. Looking into his face now there wasn't a trace of the man she had thought she'd glimpsed the other day. Regardless, she still had to be polite to the man, if for no other reason than because of what he'd done for Scarlett. "I wish you a pleasant evening Doctor Cross."

Rosemary had already taken Ella by the hand and with a smile, she boldly said "Good evening Doctor Cross, it was kind of you to stop by to see to Scarlett."

Doctor Cross bowed, "Miss Butler, I enjoyed our discourse earlier. If I ever find the answer to your question, I'll be sure and let you know. Good evening."

Eleanor could very nearly hear the cogs turning in Rosemary's head as she began to form a response to Doctor Cross's words. Rhett's own expression was thoughtful as he studied his sister, a slight twist of his lips forced Eleanor to action. "Rosemary, Ella's yawning, would you please do as I asked," said Miss Eleanor softly.

With a last lingering glance in Doctor Cross's direction Rosemary wished Rhett and Scarlett a good night before taking Ella upstairs.

It was only after his mother and sister left the room that Rhett closed the sitting room doors and took his sister's recently vacated seat next to Scarlett. She smiled at him even as she slipped her hand into his. He squeezed her hand lightly, entwining his fingers with hers.

Doctor Cross looked on at the attractive tableaux the Butlers presented of complete marital accord. It was with a self-satisfied smirk and a hard glance of triumph in Doctor Cross's direction, that Rhett presented his gratification at his wife's obvious adoration. The doctor's sullen and covetousness expression evaporated under Rhett's carefully observant eye till his expression said that he seemed to find nothing, except a slight boredom, in their unaffected show of affection.

It was this change of expression and a streak of enmity for Doctor Cross and his kind that prompted Rhett to see if he could further perturb the pale and cold eyed man sitting in the chair across the room. It had been a constant source of amusement to him over the years since he had first begun to squire Scarlett to socials and at homes, the men that envied his position at Scarlett's side. Later it was his position in Scarlett's life and bed that drew rancor and resentment. She knew that men looked at her with desire, but she could never quite make the connection between their behavior toward her husband and what it was precisely they desired.

Despite having a body that could draw a saint into sin and eyes that made a man denounce all claims to salvation, Scarlett was woefully naive when it came to men and their baser desires. In his case, she had known how he felt about her, but it was because he had told her. Every chance he could he had told her those three little words, I want you. But when it came to men who played the gentleman Scarlett, for all her shrewdness, seemed to miss what their overlying behavior concealed.

Look at Cross, for an example, he thought scornfully. The man clearly was pinning for Scarlett. That explained the personal attention he had give to Scarlett's care since he had first seen her. It was both amusing and annoying to have the man around Scarlett, but he was also one of the best medical minds in all of Charleston, possibly South Carolina. He might dislike the man, but he wanted Scarlett to have only the best. If Cross was the best, than he would put up with him for the time being, and looking forward to the very near future when he could write the man a generous check and show him the door once and for all.

Looking down at Scarlett he found himself smiling lovingly. His expression sufficiently pointed him out as belonging to the race of reformed rake cum tempore domesticated spouse. A man who was fully able to acknowledge he was happiest when surround by family, maintaining them in comfort. It was the wicked glint it his eyes that suggested that it was rather easy to be so pleased when one possessed a beautiful wife to help ease the tedium of those lingering hours which they were obliged to spend within doors after the end of the season.

Doctor Cross's lip curled upward slightly forming, what could be called by someone who was oblivious to human nature, a smile. He could see how desperate that bastard was to pretend that he loved Scarlett, that he treasured her the way she deserved. After all that Rosemary had revealed to him during their tête-à-tête he could no longer be duped by the artful pretension of love that he made toward her in front of others.

She saw the penetrating look in his eye and colored prettily, before lowering her incandescent green eyes. The green of her eyes was so vivid and memorable that he found himself re-reading Dante's Divine Comedy to refresh his memory, it pleased him enormously that he had been correct in his recollection. In the poem the color green did indeed symbolize hope.

Surely, she knew that he could see through the deception the her husband labored so hard to maintain to the very heart of their relationship. Indeed, he could see to the heart of her. To the very core of what made her Scarlett. She was a shoal, her hidden depths making her a hazard to navigation. Yet, despite the mystery, he could anticipate her every thought and gesture. A secret part of him, locked away behind a sturdy door fashioned from timber hewed from the morally rigid forests of his pride, was consumed by her.

It was not simply her shapely body or pretty face that drew him in, that stripped bare his cynicism to find beneath the boy who once believed in fairy stories and maidens in distress. There was something more, something that made him wake in the middle of the night with the imagined taste of her lips on his and the satin feel of her skin lingering in his mind. She haunted him as though she were an apparition made up of a combination of past encounters and multiple woman. He wished that were the case, in time she would have fade to be replaced by a new fantasy. But she would not fade, she was not a flight of fancy, but a woman fashioned from flesh and bone.

His feelings toward her were complex. His soul cried out for her, but his mind was also able, without sentiment or colored intentions, to let it be admitted that the mere act of domination might be sufficient to exercise her from his dreams and waking fantasies. But his indomitable will would control the indulgence of so extravagant a desire.

And yet...

Watching her toy with the edging of her cuff, he felt it rise within him, a deep seated desire to protect her. It was a surprise, his growing need to defend her with his caustic wit, the jump in his pulse when she smiled at him, the way that he wanted to be both gentle and forceful with her as he schooled her as to his expectations.

Still, this vague obsession he had with her was a waste of both time and passion. She was a Butler. By marriage, but never the less, a member of the family that had robbed his own of social standing, of dignity, of his brother, the first Jason. If only he had met her before they'd married. It would not have mattered if they had already met, indeed, had that been the case; every caress, every embrace, every time he had taken possession of her would have been that much more valued.

If he had met her while she was still unwed, he would have laid siege to her defenses till she forget that she had ever known a Rhett Butler and became suddenly conscious of her feelings for him.

In his minds eye, he could see her as she began to look at him with a shy smile and a lowering of her lashes, which would tell him in a language that went beyond mere words that she knew he was already waiting for the day he would claim her as his and his alone.

Rhett watched Doctor Cross watch Scarlett. Though the Doctor's expression gave no outward sign, he was clearly lost deep within himself. The hairs on the back of Rhett's neck prickled slightly. It was instinct that had seen him from the gold fields of the west to the very instant it would be too late to run the blockades during the war. It was this deep seated ability to sense the very essence of things that had carried him through life, largely unscathed. It was instinct that had always served as an intrinsic adviser to warn him. And now instinct was telling him that it would be wise to conclude their dealings with Cross. In his estimation, Doctor Cross was a man with an affinity for Scarlett, not particularly shocking, but still...There was something else there. Would Cross try to seduce Scarlett. At that thought, Rhett grinned brashly, he could certainly try but in that endeavor he was doomed to failure.

It was after 8 o'clock, if he could hurry Cross out, they could be upstairs by no later than nine. Though there was one issue that he was curious about, no time like the present to satisfy that curiosity. "Doctor Cross, if you can spare me some of your time I have some questions that I need answered."

There was a flicker of speculation in the Doctor's eyes before he asked, "Concerning?"

"Your reversed position on the importance of bed rest in relation to Scarlett's chances for a full recovery."

Scarlett bristled, her eyes sparkling with anger. Rhett sounded as though he wanted her back in bed, fully dependent on him to care for her. "I am sure that Doctor Cross would not make any changes in my treatment if he didn't think them warranted. I am not going to continue lying in bed when I feel fine."

Doctor Cross's face was solemn and there was concern evident in his voice. "Scarlett, I said you no longer had to stay in bed. By no means is that to be taken as encouragement to wear yourself out till you make yourself ill all over again. You may get out of bed, you may move about with the aid of the cane I've brought you tonight. But, you are not completely well yet. Nor will you be well any time soon if you push yourself beyond the limits of your constitution. Not without diligence, rest, and most importantly the presence of mind to know when enough is enough, will you fully recover."

Rhett looked down at Scarlett, seated next him on the couch. He wanted nothing more than to see her happy, but he also wanted her to recover fully. Doctor Cross knew how badly Scarlett wanted to be out of bed. Would he be willing to jeopardize her health? To what end? Was it simply to infuriate him or could it be that he wanted to please Scarlett so that she would feel indebted to him for releasing her from the listlessness that she had felt during her period of recuperation. "Wouldn't a few more days in bed be beneficial to Scarlett's body, a time to heal?"

"Rhett Butler, don't you dare suggest that I should stay upstairs, bored out of my mind, for even one more day," she said, bristling.

At the determined set of her jaw and the gleam of resolution in her eyes Doctor Cross smiled genuinely. "Captain Butler, when I made my initial diagnosis, I misjudged Scarlett. I thought that she was like every other woman I've ever treated. I assumed she would lie in bed, allowing those around her to take on her tasks and responsibilities. You are," he smiled at Scarlett, "without a doubt the most difficult woman I have ever treated. And let me remind you, I treated her imperial majesty, the Empress Eugénie."

"Difficult?" Scarlett tossed her head pertly. "I don't know how you can say that Doctor Cross. Haven't I followed your orders to the letter?"

"Only because, I suspect, Captain Butler has been beside you every step of the way so you've had no choice but to follow my orders."

Despite his feelings toward Doctor Cross, his assessment of Scarlett's behavior during her convalescence was so completely accurate that it brought laughter forth.

"And just what, may I ask, is so funny?" Scarlett said primly, pursing her lips.

"He isn't wrong, my pet. You've been chomping at the bit to escape from the confines of bed rest. I'm surprised that you haven't been trying to get back on your feet before today."

She flinched, just slightly, but Doctor Cross saw it. The way her eyes darted to the side to glance at her husband, gauging whether he was just commenting on her eagerness to get out of bed or if he knew that she had been out of bed.

"Scarlett, you will take care won't you? I don't want to rush you, to force you out of bed and back on your feet before you are absolutely ready," said Doctor Cross.

"Don't be silly. I feel fine. You said you would be by to check my progress later this week?"

Doctor Cross withdrew a slim, leather bound notebook from his waistcoat pocket and a pencil. Flicking through the pages he nodded absently. "I can see you on Wednesday, that is the 26th. Is that acceptable?"

"Of course. What time shall I expect you?'

"2 o'clock. If that will do?"

"I can't see why it wouldn't. I'll expect you on Wednesday."

"Absolutely." He rose from his chair. "Scarlett, you are looking wonderful. Much better than anyone who nearly died just two weeks ago has a right to. But, go easy, at least for now. Your children are charming, so I can only assume that you would not want to leave them without a mother."

Scarlett sucked in a harsh breath. "Of course not. Why would you say something like that?"

"Because if I draw your attention to what you stand to lose if you over do things then perhaps that will be enough to give you pause as you rush headlong toward recovery. You were injured, you've been ill. I promise you, the joints in your leg and hips will mend and you will eventually regain your mobility. But if you push yourself too far too fast, you may further injure yourself. In the state of health you are currently in you can not afford to overdo certain things."

She took a breath, a delicate sip of air to try to build the courage to ask the question that had been on her mind since the reconciliation that had taken place between her and Rhett. "Doctor Cross, what do you mean by certain things?"

He looked at her, his gaze level and his words to the point. "I think that if you use common sense Scarlett, you will be able to judge for yourself what falls into that category."

He rose from his chair, "If there is nothing else, I should be going. Please, reiterate my thanks to Mrs. Butler for her hospitality this evening. Your mother, Captain Butler, is a rare lady. It is always a pleasure to work with her for the good of the Home for Widows and Orphans. She is, without a doubt, a lady of rare common sense."

"Doctor Cross, I'll see you out," said Rhett pointedly, not bothering to acknowledge the pompous Doctor's praise of Eleanor.

Doctor Cross paused in front of Scarlett. "Scarlett," he reached down and she offered him her hand delicately, "Do not over do things. I meant what I said, next year I fully intend on offering my name as one of the first for a space on your dance card for Saint Cecilia. I'd hate to be disappointed."

She smiled, "I'd hate to disappoint. Don't you worry. I promise, I will take things slow for the time being."

"Good night, Scarlett."

"Good night, Doctor Cross. Thank you for coming by."

"You are most certainly welcome," with that, he pressed a light kiss on the back of her hand and followed Rhett out of the room.

She heard their footfalls in the hall and knowing Rhett wouldn't be back for a minute or two she allowed her thoughts to wander. Doctor Cross was as handsome as sin. It was little wonder that Rosemary was so infatuated. Tall, handsome, rich and smart. He was everything that would appeal to a young woman. In those respects he was similar to Rhett. But, it was those similarities that numerous men shared with Rhett. He did not posses Rhett's ability to mock himself. He clearly took himself very seriously. No surprise there, after all, for a man of his age he had studied under some of the greatest minds in Europe and was acknowledged as one of the smartest doctors in Charleston. Sally had told her, over tea, that people came from several states away for his opinion on various medical matters. It was encouraging to have someone like that treating her.

Unfortunately, Rosemary was in love with the man, and his being a fine Doctor was not going to go far in smoothing over the ruckus that would come out of Rhett's reaction to those feelings. Rhett loved his sister, he wanted what was best for her, but despite that, he was not about to let Doctor Cross court Rosemary.

In the morning, once Rhett had left, she would have to sit Rosemary down and introduce some hard facts of life. Sometimes to love someone wasn't enough, not when so much stood in the way of that love. It was for her own good.

"You look as though you've the weight of the world on your shoulders," Rhett commented softly from the doorway.

"No. Just thinking things through."

"Such as?"

"Nothing of any importance," she lied, guilt momentarily washing over her. It had been so much easier to lie to him before she had acknowledged that she loved him.

"Are you ready to go upstairs?"

"Not just yet. Do you think we might talk for a few minutes? There is something I want to ask you."


	76. Summoner's Tale

**For Jackie K., thank you for your email.**

"Not just yet. Do you think we might talk for a few minutes?"

Her expression gave nothing away, but the way her body tensed as he steadily regarded her told him that it was not an idle request for a larger budget to renovate the Landing then the one he'd allotted her or some fripperies for herself and the children.

"Should I fix myself a drink first, to soften the blow?" he said in an attempt to put her at ease.

"It isn't anything bad, at least I can't see it as something particularly upsetting, to you at any rate. I wanted to ask you at the same time when I asked about Wade and Ella coming here to join me, but I wasn't sure that the children and I would be here for long so I decided to wait and see," said Scarlett, rambling slightly. She rang the handkerchief he had given her between her hands for a moment. "I've been thinking a great deal about Melly lately, not more than I do usually, but just about the sort of mother she was and about what I promised her...at the end."

His features were carefully composed, she was treading into dangerous territory charging headlong and though he felt vaguely petty for resenting it, her deathbed promise to Mrs. Wilkes had entailed a codicil that still rankled him, look after the less than competent Mister Wilkes. "And?"

"Well," she brought her troubled face upward to look at him, "I've been thinking about Beau. She gave me Beau twice," Scarlett's voice quavered slightly, but she continued on, her eyes turning misty with tears that she held back. If she began to cry she wouldn't be able to stop. "She gave him to me once when he was born, because we thought she might not survive the trip out to Tara and again the night she died. I promised Melly that I would look after him and I've made a mess of that too, just as I did with Wade and Ella. I just thought, since I'm his aunt and after all, Wade is his cousin..."

"That is usually the way those sorts of relationships work out," interjected Rhett.

"Be serious," she scolded lightly, "Would you mind if I asked Ashley if Beau could come for a visit?"

Weighing his answer carefully Rhett finally conceded, the son was not the father. Though he might loath the Honorable Mister Wilkes, Beau was a likable young man. Wade would be glad to see him , as would Ella. If she was to be believed, the two had grown fond of each other and had been faithful correspondents over the last eight months. Ella had had such a difficult time at Tara, seeing Beau would help her further crack the shell that she had formed around herself. By the same measure, if having the boy visit would assuage Scarlett of the guilt she felt at not honoring her promise to Miss Melly, then so be it. "If you don't think it's too much for you to take on, then by all means invite the boy. I assume that you want me to bring Beau back with me when I return from Atlanta."

"No," she replied, offhandedly, "Ashley would never let Beau...," she trailed off, even as her mind leaped ahead to catch up with her tongue. But he knew what she had been about to say, Ashley would never let Beau travel with you.

"Of course, how foolish of me," bit back Rhett, his tone suddenly bitter. "How could I possibly think that Mister Wilkes would entrust his only son into my dubious charge for an hour, let alone the length of a train ride."

It had been an honest slip of the tongue. She hadn't realized how incendiary her comment would sound once spoken. Now Rhett was angry and, as she had always done when she was in the wrong when dealing with Rhett, Scarlett immediately tried to make Rhett into the guilty party. It was not intentional, later on when she re-examined the conversation at leisure she saw that immediately, but by then words were spoken that could not be drawn back into the void between thought and speech.

"Oh Rhett, don't be so thin-skinned," she commented, airily. "That wasn't how I meant it. Beau is shy to start with and he only just lost his mother. He's never been away from Atlanta, except for those first few years when everyone was at Tara. I just think that Ashley, if he even does let Beau come, will want to bring him here himself. Just to make sure that he'll be comfortable with us." She smiled brightly, hoping that she had defused the tense stance that she had triggered with her earlier words. Instead, her smile only served to anger him still further.

It had been a long day on many counts. After an emotional argument with Scarlett he had gone to the Archbishop to do battle on Scarlett's behalf, only to find Jason Cross charming his family. At least, in the coming weeks, Jason Cross would become less and less a necessary part of Scarlett's recuperation. But, just as he was preparing to disentangle Jason Cross from their lives, he would be replaced by Ashley Wilkes. The allusion between himself and Hercules came to Rhett, but without humor. Between Cross and Wilkes it was like cutting off one of Hydra's numerous heads only to have two more grow back in it's place.

She was still smiling at him, cajoling him as she sat waiting for his reply. Obviously, she had no doubts that she would get her own way in the matter. Beau Wilkes would come to Charleston, accompanied by Ashley Wilkes.

He wanted so much to trust her, but it was still difficult, with their reconciliation still in its early days. He feared that it was as it had always been, the instant she mention Ashley Wilkes, a smile lit up her face and made her eyes sparkle. Fear of having been wrong to let her into his heart and the thought of having to sit ideally by while Scarlett and Ashley recounted the numerous shared memories they had between them of their childhood and adolescence was more than he could stand. He wanted to believe that he was the one she loved, the only man that she wanted, but black thoughts whispered themselves in his ear incessantly, till he lashed out at her, flatly he asked, "And tell me, where will Mister Wilkes be staying during his sojourn with us?"

His face was carved from granite, completely cold and his eyes judged her and found her wanting. Her hip throbbed in time with the pulsing of her heart. Her muscles were sore from her earlier efforts learning how to manage with a cane. She had had the best of intentions regarding Beau, but Rhett twisted her request till it sounded as though it was based on something sordid. She only wanted to ask that her nephew come for a visit and now they were arguing, again. She wanted to make peace, to fall back on the past weeks as an incentive toward diplomacy, but her resolve faltered.

Scarlett flushed angrily under his scrutinizing gaze. She chaffed at his obvious suspicions toward the true nature of her request and she was not careful in the wording of the response she flung back. "Does it matter?"

He casually shrugged. "You tell me."

It was the insolent curve of his lips and the mistrust in his dark eyes that acted as the final sparks to light her gunpowder temper. "If it matters so damn much, I'll reserve him a room at The Augusta."

He dismissed her offer with a nonchalant shrug as he withdrew his cigar case and after lighting it and disposing of the match in the fireplace he spoke without venom or approval. An imp straight from the depths of the hell that mistrust had made in his soul had seized control of his tongue. He could not check himself and before he knew what was happening he struck one last killing blow. "I never said it mattered, however; may I make so bold as to inquire, will I be treated to an encore performance by Ashley Wilkes of his supposedly unrequited love for my wife?" He chuckled softly at the irate set of her lips, anticipating her coming words he cut her off, "Excuse me, it's in fact now run it's course. Requited love sounds base. Have you any suggestions for a new description of the relationship between you and Mister Wilkes?"

"What's gotten into you?" she cried out. "I thought I made everything clear to you the other day in my room. I love you, but if you can't believe I do then..." she pressed her lips together and swallowed, "then maybe you should go to The Landing for a few days," she chocked back a noise that she feared would have presented itself as a sob. "Perhaps you should take some time to consider how you really feel about me, because let me tell you this, if you constantly second guess every word that passes my lips and every thought in my head that will only serve to drive you mad and in turn you'll make me insane. I love you, I do, but I won't..." her voice trembled, but she forced herself to finish, her voice grew in intensity till each word was laboriously put forward" I cannot live like we use to."

The cigar burned out, forgotten between his fingertips. The hurt in her voice and naked agony on her face woke him from the rage that had clouded his faculties. He had been carried away by sparring with her, as they had always done. Now she had asked him to go. He didn't have doubts about his feelings for her, but their reconciliation had happened so quickly that he found himself unable to forget their past. She had always been able to turn her back on the past and look toward tomorrow. Why couldn't he?

He rubbed his hand over his face, before drawing in a breath. "Maybe I should go to the Landing, the last launch leaves at midnight. Just for a day or two."

She could taste the bile at the back of her throat and though her face was white and her hands shook slightly, her expression was composed and her voice strong as she replied, "You should do whatever it is you need to do. I'll still be here, when you return. If you need time to think, I won't hold it against you."

Please, she prayed silently, please give me the strength to make it to my room before I start to cry. I can't cry in front of him. He has to make this choice without my tears or because he thinks that I'm too sick to disappoint.

He didn't acknowledge her words of understanding. Instead he offered her his hand. "Let me help you upstairs first, before I go."

She took his hand, but only to squeeze it briefly. "I can manage, go on. I think I will just sit here for a while." She couldn't let him touch her again. She would break down if he took her in his arms.

"Scarlett..."

With tenderness in her voice she shook her head. "Rhett, don't fuss so. Go and get your things together first, then you can help me upstairs."

She could hear his footfalls on the floor of the hallway. The tears that had threatened to fall finally came, she could no more hold them back then she could have borne the weight of the world on her shoulders. He would come back from the Landing, of that she was sure. He would at least show her that much deference. But it was his nature to come and go and she could, for now, accept that he needed distance to examine the choices he had made over the past few weeks.

He paused, his hand on the banister. He was wrong and he knew it. She only wanted to bring Beau to Charleston to honor her promise to Miss Melly. It wasn't the promise of a visit from Ashley Wilkes that had inspired the request. He had been out of line to suggest that was the case. Once, he would have been correct. There had been a time where she would have invited Beau to bring Ashley to her side, but that time was past.

When she had suggested he go to the Landing he had jumped at the chance. It seemed like the right thing to do. Seemed, however; was not the same as was. Going to the Landing at this point, without her, was a fool's errand. He didn't need time to take his choices into consideration. He loved Scarlett. She had been so kind just now, so fair with him despite the hurt and anger that his words must have inspired.

He grinned suddenly at the absurdity of the current situation. After years of her tormenting him with her disdainful rebuffs she had begun to treat him with such loving concern and sweetness that he could not think of going anywhere but to her side. Who else but Scarlett could torment him like this, with love instead of anger? Was it any wonder that the exquisite fury that had burned in his breast at the mention of Ashley Wilkes had burst into sudden flame at the thought of welcoming him into their home?

She clearly believed that Ashley had wished her well in her efforts to win back her husband, but he could not take the man at his word. Still, that was not Scarlett fault. She could not control the way another man felt for her. And it was unfair of him to berate her for past transgressions, after all, he had plenty of his own to answer for.

After seeing the way that she had watched him when she had been sure that he wasn't looking over the past months since she had arrived in November, how could he have suggested she would be contemplating giving her heart to another man? That she was using Beau to lure Ashley to Charleston?

Turning on his heel to return to the drawing room, he chastised himself for failing her so soon after promising that he would never doubt her again. How could I believe that she could give herself to anyone else? I would be better off to wonder how she could give herself to me, he thought, ruefully.


	77. Never Ending Faith

**second part tomorrow night my friends**

Scarlett looked up at him as he opened the sitting room door. An ocean of unshed tears glinted in her luminous eyes. For what seemed like an aeon, they regarded each other with eyes that said more than words could have. She could see the regret and pain in his eyes. He knew her, knew her inside and out. There was no point in trying to hide her feelings of anger and sadness tempered though they were, with resignation. Whatever comes, she thought, I'll face it. But how could she, how could she face the sunrise tomorrow because she was sure she would see the darkness fade with the rising of the sun.

She would spend every waking moment wondering what went wrong. She was trapped, completely ensnarled in a love she had never sought. Her heart cried out to beg him to stay, to demand, cajole, guilt him if need be. Anything to make him stay. But while her heart pleaded with her, pride won out. She would allow him time, and if, in the course of time, he decided that what he wanted was a life without her, and then she would turn from him. But, her heart would harden against him and when he inevitably returned looking for her love, it would be to late.

Still, she had to have faith. She had to believe that the Rhett Butler that had run away from her every time things became difficult wasn't the man that stood in the doorway studying her with those queer all seeing eyes, the eyes, that had haunted her for the last year and a half.

"Do you have everything you need?" she asked hoarsely. She could feel the tears prickling her eyes and her throat worked convulsively as she swallowed discreetly. She was caught between letting him go and begging him to stay. Two halves of one heart that was in turmoil and soon it would tear her in two. If only he would leave, she thought suddenly, if he would just leave then she could allow herself the luxury of spilling the tears that were even now burning as she fought to restrain herself.

"No, I don't," he replied softly.

Her brow furrowed slightly. Was he intentionally drawing this out? Could he be waiting to see if she would humble herself for him? No, surely they were beyond such childish, petty power struggles. He needed time to reflect and she had agreed to give it to him. And, if nothing else good could be said of her it was this, she never went back on her word, she thought. "I thought I heard Mango a little while ago, he may still be in the kitchen I'm sure he would know…"

"Come upstairs with me," he said simply. His voice was quiet and deferential, allowing her the opportunity to refuse his request.

Her head tilted slightly, the tendrils of her hair that had worked themselves loose from her casual upsweep brushed the rise of her cheeks and he longed to smooth the stray locks back. He had to allow her the opportunity to give him a sign, to tell him that things could and would be right between them.

There was no cure for the longing he felt for her when they were apart, save one. Not to be parted from her again. He would go away on business and, no doubt, when she finally had all of Tara's shares in her control she would make trips to Georgia without him, but there were vital differences between separation of the body and separation of the heart.

Her face was so still and pale that she could have been the statue of Penelope in the rose garden at the Landing. The clock on the mantle measured, in a dusty halting voice, the passage of time. Her words, when she at last spoke, were tremulous and uncertain, but backed by the determination that he so cherished. "You aren't going to the Landing then?"

"No."

"Why?" she asked frankly. He felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth, but he suppressed it. That was Scarlett, she would not only look a gift horse in the mouth, but she'd count its teeth, twice.

"Because I find that all I want to do these days is run toward you, not away," he answered truthfully.

She laughed then, her mirth reassured him and he came to her side, sitting next to her before the fire. She did not shrink from him and encouraged by this he wrapped his arm around her waist drawing her close. She rested her head against him and with a superior smile she tilted back her head to gaze up at him. "You and I we belong together, can't you see it? You've spent years telling me how blind I am, blind even to things that are right in front of me. Even I can see that we belong together. Go ahead and tell me you'll leave again, I'm not afraid, not one bit. Do you know that I sat here; willing myself to be brave so that you wouldn't feel pressured to stay out of obligation. I didn't have to though, you love me, and you'll come back. I love you; I'll take you for everything you are if you take me for everything that I am."

She began to laugh, deeply and freely till the tears that had threatened to spill began to roll down her cheeks. She tried exercise a measure of self-control, but the sheer relief that she felt at knowing that he wanted to stay with her made it nearly impossible to check her true feelings. He was staying. Relief washed through her making her shaky as the need to hold strong retreated.

He leaned forward, it was an awkward position, but kissing her was worth the twinge of discomfort in his lower back. She reached up to cradle his cheek in the palm of her hand. To know that she wanted to touch him, that she enjoyed being close to him, was a singular pleasure that in all his experience had no equal. It had taken something more than lust or the need to win her to bring him back this time. It was the knowledge that this would be lost to him, forever, if he allowed fear and willful pride to cloud his judgment.

He had finally opened his heart to her and to close her out of it would be tantamount to murder. To deny her would be to kill a part of himself that he had only just discovered… That he could love and be loved. True, Bonnie had loved him, but that had been because he was her father and such love was obligatory. It had been a pure and sacred love, the love that existed between a father and a child.

Scarlett loved him because of his faults and shortcomings; there would never be a time when she would come to realize that a father and a man were two separate entities. The love he had shared with Bonnie remained untarnished because she had never viewed him through the eyes of an adult. The love he shared with Scarlett was it's equal in worth because she saw the whole of his parts. Scarlett loved him. If he had learned nothing else from losing Bonnie it was that he could not afford to spurn love when offered because, it could be lost in the blink of an eye. He kissed her again, and then a third time, shifting his body till he could draw her flush against him. He needed her, needed the reassurance that would come from the feeling of her hands on his body and her lips pressed against his own.

"Rhett?" she whispered against his lips. "Rhett, we should talk…"

"Shh, just be here with me, forget about everything else, just let me love you."

He cradled her head in his large hands and kissed her till her arms slid around his waist. She returned his kiss fiercely, her fingers sinking into his flesh in ecstasy as his mouth slid from hers. He moved her head backward and then his lips were against her flushed skin, sliding down her sensitive skin he traced his lips down her throat till they rested just above her jugular. Her pulse was racing; her body trembled against his as he caressed the delicate skin at the back of her neck. "I love you Scarlett, in spite of anything I've said or done to give you the indication that I don't, I love you."

She sighed softly; she was still breathless at the intensity of the feelings that his embraces always stirred within her. He brushed the errant locks of hair away from her face and she caught his hand and kissed its work-roughened palm. "Why does this all have to be so hard, if I love you and you love me?"

"Because, life is hard. Anything worth having isn't easily got. Power, money, love; not one of them come to anyone who isn't willing to work to maintain them."

"It shouldn't be. Not now at least. We finally know we love one another, I know we can be happy, if only we can just stop making the same mistakes over and over. Why can't we…behave ourselves," she said, ruefully.

"Scarlett, this isn't a fairy tale, this is reality. Love isn't a fairy wand to wave over our problems. Marriage is complicated. Ours is more so than other couples."

"Why do you think that is," she questioned innocently.

"Because," he replied, laughing softly, "in most cases couples go from being lovers to adversaries. You and I, being terribly stubborn, did things backwards."

She sighed. "If you still want to go to the Landing, if not tonight, then tomorrow…I would understand...Well, I would pretend to understand at any rate and not mumble rude things under my breath until I was really and truly sure you'd left the house."

"I do want to go to the Landing, with you and our children. We could go for the weekend, I'll leave for Atlanta Monday afternoon."

"About Beau…" Scarlett ventured softly.

"Send Mister Wilkes a telegram. He cannot stay here because I couldn't be trusted not to smother him with a pillow. Is that fair?" he offered with a raffish grin.

She sat up and offered him one slim white hand to shake. He accepted it gently, curving his thumb till it rested lightly on her wedding band. It was something he had always done in happier times, a something that had been missing for years. She had lost her way, but in the end it hadn't mattered, because every road in her life ended at the same place, Rhett's arms.

"More than fair Captain Butler. I do wish we could get through one day without an argument. I can't stand us fighting once we're done, but I also can't seem to stop myself while we're in the thick of it."

"There isn't anything wrong with the occasional fight. It clears the air. A vast majority of our problems can be traced back to a lack of fights. You and I stopped speaking instead. Silence isn't golden, Scarlett, it's deadly. It is stagnant and breeds disease and decay."

She paled swiftly, thinking of Rosemary and the silence she was maintaining on her sister-in-law's behalf. Yes, in many cases silence could be dangerous.

"Scarlett," he asked, the way he said her name sent a thrill through her, "You're still pale, are you alright?"

"I'm just tired I suppose. I'm sorry if I offended you earlier."

"The truth shouldn't have offended me."

She laced her arm through his. "Rhett, let's go and look in on the children and then go to bed."

It was not often that he felt that he should be held accountable for his actions, but when faced with the enormity of what he had done to Scarlett throughout their association, he felt remorse. He had mercilessly perused her, though she had evidenced no real preference for him outside of a sort of smug acceptance of his attentions, as if they were expected. He had blamed her for the heartache he had suffered at her hands, and with little real justification. She had made no false claims of loving him, she had told him when he had proposed that she was marrying him for security and what fun there might be had as his wife. She had told him that she loved someone else. But, he had punished her for not returning the feelings that he had for her. How illogical was that, to berate and degrade the woman whose love he had supposedly coveted, all because she didn't know that he loved her?

He helped her to her feet gently positioning her so they faced one another. "Scarlett, I do love you. I can't imagine what you've suffered because of my treatment of you. Not just here in Charleston, but before in Atlanta. Hell, before we were married. If I had known…"

With a smile, she lifted her hand and rested the tips of her fingers on his lips. She shook her head lightly, "Shh, not another word. Not unless it is about how pretty my nose is or how well my dress suits me. No more serious discussions, not tonight, not till next week or the week after that. At least."

"There is still one thing…"

"Is it a serious subject?"

He began to open his mouth to speak, but she lifted her fingers to his lips once more.

"It is, isn't it? I am not in the least bit interested. Whatever it is will keep, won't it?"

He nodded before gently pursing his lips and kissing the tips of her fingers.

"There, you see Captain Butler, I realize that marriage isn't all hearts and flowers, sometimes it is hard work and compromise. So here is my offer; I'll be as sweet as I know how for the rest of the week till you leave for Atlanta and all you have to do for me in return is to not bring up things that'll make me turn sour," she drawled coquettishly.

"Come upstairs with me," he said, paraphrasing his earlier query.

"Why Rhett Butler," she simpered sweetly before her voice turned soft and serious till there was no doubting her words were the simple truth, "I'd go anywhere as long as it was with you."


	78. Everlasting love

**God bless the Hokies, my thoughts and prayers are with you all.**

Ella had fallen asleep and all that was required of the child's parents was that the blankets be re-tucked around her shoulders. Scarlett brushed a kiss on her forehead, before allowing Rhett to provide her the comfort of his support as they left Ella's bedroom. The cane was still alien to her, every time she felt that she had gained some sort of equilibrium, she would lean the wrong way or the tip would skid slightly and she would feel as though she were seconds away from pitching forward.

"One down," she murmured to him softly, "And as for Wade…" A frown creased her features. The light spilling out from under Wade's door immediately gave him away.

"That naughty thing," said Scarlett softly, mindful of her in-laws and her already slumbering daughter, "it's well past nine."

"Scarlett, he's almost fourteen, surely if he wants to stay up and read it isn't such a crime?"

"So says the indulgent father," she said archly, but without any trace of intended malice, 'If I give an inch, Wade will take a mile. The next thing I know he'll be reading till the wee hours of the night and I will have to shake him awake and force him to get up in the morning." Her voice changed then, taking on a knowing tone of amusement that was still new to him when it came to the children, "Besides, he usually turns off the lamp at nine and sneaks another hour by candlelight."

"Truly, he is his mother's child."

"There's worse people he could take after," she replied, with a pert tilt of her chin.

He pinched her chin. "I entirely agree, he could take after his stepfather, then I'd have to tan his hide and pack him off to military school."

Scarlett rapped lightly on Wade's door. After a moment he called "Come in."

Wade was seated at his desk, a book opened in front of him. There was no guile in his gentle expression as he smiled at his mother and stepfather. They made such a handsome picture standing there together, his beautiful mother and tall, handsome stepfather. He knew that there was more to being loved and loving than one's appearance, but it was hard not to feel a wave of pride at how lovely his mother was. She was regarding him with a visible trace of suspicion and he realized while he had been immersed in the book that Aunt Rosemary had bought him it must have gotten very late. Late enough that his mother assumed that he could not possible be unaware of the time.

"Wade, darling, it's nearly ten o'clock."

"Is it?" he asked innocently.

"It is, time for you to be in bed," replied Scarlett firmly.

"I was actually waiting for you to come upstairs, I wanted to ask you something Mother, well, for something," he amended.

He was so like Charlie, thought Scarlett. Those same doe-like brown eyes, soft and tranquil eyes that could occasionally sparkle with excitement when something lit the candle of passion in his breast.

A memory came swimming up from the depths of her memory when faced with her son who was so clearly caught up in a fit of enthusiasm about something. She had done Charlie wrong, and sadly she was, even now over a decade later, still glad that he'd never had to return and find out that the love he thought he'd won had never been there for the offering, let alone winning.

Wade looked just as Charlie had the day she had dutifully waved him off along with Ashley and most of the country boys. The timid, shy boy she barely knew as a husband had gripped her hands tightly and with a glancing kiss on the forehead told her proudly, "It'll be alright honey, the war will be over in a few weeks and then we'll honeymoon anywhere you like." All she could think that afternoon was that she hoped the war lasted a year so she would at least have some time to come to terms with her stupidity in rushing into marriage so foolishly.

She owned Charlie a debt that had elapsed into fault with his untimely death. If she wished to settle her accounts, she would have to settle through Wade. With that in mind, Scarlett swallowed the note of impatience she could feel threatening to creep into her voice at Wade's inopportune choice of time for a heart to heart.

"What is it Wade?"

He came to his feet, carefully pushing in his desk chair before clasping his hands behind his back. Wade swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbed frantically, but he had to finish the conversation or he'd lose his nerve. "I wanted to know, well that is, I wondered if you had thought about school? Are we staying in Charleston or going back to Atlanta? I don't mean to be fresh," he added hastily, knowing how his mother disliked forward children, "But it's only that going to the schoolhouse by Tara, I am sure that I've fallen behind other boys my age. The Misses Tarlatan's tried hard, but…" he trailed off awkwardly.

Scarlett giggled. "Randa and Hettie Tarlatan couldn't spell CAT, I can not imagine either was a very competent teacher." Seeing his crestfallen expression at what he thought was a causal dismissal of something that had worried him she smiled winningly and leaning on Rhett she allowed him to guide her to Wade's bed, where she sank down gratefully. "Come here Wade." The boy came to stand before her and she took his hands into her with a reassuring squeeze. " I can't honestly say for sure Wade, about where we will be going next. I think, that is I know, that Uncle Rhett has a lot of work to do on the rice fields at Dunmore Landing so I imagine we'll be here till sometime in the fall. Actually, Uncle Rhett and I have talked things over, including your's and Ella's education, and we thought a tutor might be the right thing for you and one for Ella, as well. At least until the fall, at any rate, then we'll have a better idea of where we will want to live. It may very well be right here in Charleston, in which case we can start visiting any of the schools that strike you as places you might like to consider."

"Oh mother, thank you." Wade turned his head and grinned, "Thank you Uncle Rhett."

"You are welcome Wade," said Rhett. "Now, give your mother a kiss and then bed. If you like you may come to the mines with me in the morning. Your mother is having Ella fitted for new frocks tomorrow and the center of that storm is no place for a man, no matter how brave he might be. I'll be leaving fairly early so I'll expect you ready no later than 7:30."

"I'd like that." His mother drew him forward and he kissed Scarlett's cheek gently. Before he moved away she reached out to ruffle his hair.

As he spoke to Wade Scarlett quietly observed her son. Though he wasn't towering over her yet, Scarlett was shaken once more by the realization that Wade had grown so much over the last year. He would need the very best that money could buy in the way of an education. No one would ever be able to tease him or set him down because of a lack of learning. He would never be without, whether it was education or cash in his pocket and shoes on his feet; he would never be a disadvantage, not while there was a breath in her body.

The idea that she loved him was new to her. That he was more than a duty or a cross to be born was one that had begun to develop since the accident. He was sweet and smart and kind. And yes, he was Charlie's son, but he was her son too.

"I'm trying Wade," she whispered affectionately, she hadn't especially intended for him to hear her, but he did.

The boy blushed and ducked his head, but she could see the grin that her words had caused.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When they were at last alone in what Scarlett had come to think of as their room, she pointedly cleared her throat.

She sounded just as Wade had only minutes before, nervous, but eager to say whatever it was that was on her mind. "Would you care for a glass of water?" asked Rhett.

"No, but you could lock the door."

"Lock the door?" he said, feigning puzzlement, "but if I do that then how will Penny get in to attend to you, or would you rather I don't ring for Penny?"

"No, I won't need her. I told her so this afternoon, not to wait for me to call her tonight. No doubt she's already in bed. I know it's shocking," her voice slipped to a whisper, "but, I'd prefer it if my husband took off my clothes."

"Why Mrs. Butler, what has gotten into you?" he asked, even as he came to her and swiftly began to unbutton the back of her dress.

"Mm, I couldn't tell you and hope to remain a lady," she replied, coquettishly.

He chuckled warmly; his voice was husky and deep. "Ladies have never held very much attraction for me."

She gasped lightly as the slightly chill air in the room caressed her bared flesh. After he finished unlacing the back of her corset, Rhett reached his arms around to the front of the corset and slowly he began to unfasten the front closure hooks of the constrictive undergarment. Even as the corset slid to the floor to join the pile of fabric that had only moments before been her dress and petticoats, he cupped her breasts in his massive hands. The curling, wiry black hairs on the back of his hands gave him a predatory animal quality. All that was left was her sheer Irish linen chemise, her pantalets and clocked stockings with their pink satin garters and linen and silk day slippers. His strong, elegant fingers would no doubt make short work of removing her few, remaining garments.

"And yet, you married me. How curious."

His husky chuckle echoed softly in her ear as he lifted his hand to remove the pins from her hair. "You are incorrigible."

Her hair cascaded down, past her slim shoulders and she tossed her head to redistribute the mass of hair that he had just freed. "I have no idea what that means, so I am going to assume it means beautiful."

He wrapped his arms around her now unencumbered form. Lowering his mouth to her ear, he whispered slyly, "The definition of incorrigible isn't important, what I am about to do to you is."

Extending her arm above and behind her Scarlett dragged her fingertips down his cheek. "Oh?"

His hands slid down still further till his large hands rested on her hips. She could feel the heat of a fiery blush rising in her cheeks, but she was so tired of being shy and restrained when it came to what he made her feel when he touched her. Why was it so wrong for a woman to like what her husband did to her in the privacy of her own bedroom? And was it worse to revel in what a husband did to a wife on a stretch of deserted beach or in a bathtub, she shivered as another example presented itself for her consideration. Was it a venal sin if she happened to recall, at the most inopportune moments, what he husband had done to her in their stateroom on the riverboat that second night in New Orleans?

More than likely, women were told that what men did to them was shameful and dirty because, if a woman thought there might be some pleasure to be had in her marital bed, she might seek out that pleasure, but without the benefit of clergy and ring "And just what is it you have planned for me?" she asked, her whisky and dark honeyed drawl was the last straw, the catalyst that broke what he meant to be hours of teasing till he at last finished showing her how much more there was to love making.

"This," he replied, kissing the side of her throat. "And this," he said as he slide his hand upwards to cup her breast once more. He toyed with her tender rose-colored nipples before turning her to face him. Leaning forward he crushed her body to his, as he took her lips in a kiss that sent the blood racing through her veins till she thought she would faint if he didn't stop.

"Rhett, please, just love me, just tell me you love me" she whispered hoarsely when he drew back.

"I do, I've loved you since the moment you threw that damned vase," he carried her to her bed, the bed that in the last few days had become their bed, "Let me show you how much I love you."


	79. Shadows will remain

Scarlett sighed gratefully as she allowed Rosemary to help her ease herself into one of the comfortable chairs before the fireplace in the guest room across the hall from her own. Earlier, after breakfast, Mrs. Eleanor had asked Manigo to move one of the chairs from her own bedroom into the guest room where the esteemed Mrs. Benson, Miss Eleanor's couturière, would work on Ella's wardrobe.

Rosemary had explained, while ferrying the numerous fashion magazines that Scarlett had been perusing during her convalescence, that Mrs. Benson had spent her youth apprenticed to the House of Bertin in Paris. After the war she had come back to Charleston, her childhood home, to establish her own house. She was very selective about who she would take on as a client. Traditionally, she did not make house calls or personally design in the three months after Saint Cecilia. Those were the months in which she would make trans-Atlantic crossing to Paris or visit the North to determine what the course of fashion would be for the coming year. Rosemary had said that she couldn't imagine how Rhett had enticed Mrs. Benson to come and sew for anyone in the spring, let alone a little girl of seven.

Scarlett had only smiled and kept her assumptions to herself. Rhett had no doubt offered the woman an obscene amount of money to come and sew for Ella…and Mrs. Benson had accepted

It must have been a small fortune, because Mrs. Benson had agreed to do all of the measurements and fittings in the gold guest room at Miss Eleanor's till Scarlett was well enough to bring Ella to her workshop.

Scarlett carefully leaned her accursed cane within reach before she smoothed her skirts across her lap. With a critical eye she watched Rosemary flit around the room, moving knickknacks from one surface to the next. The younger woman had been in a state of high agitation for the last few days and Scarlett hoped that she was soon going to come to the crux of the matter that was weighing so heavily on her mind. Although, she thought, it's probably something to do with Doctor Cross. There was a topic she'd rather not have to discuss, Jason Cross.

But, what else could possibly be influencing Rosemary's behavior so strongly?

"Great balls of fire, sit down Rosemary before you drive me stark raving mad."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, be still. You've been pacing about like a caged lion for the last fifteen minutes. It's enough to drive me insane. I swear, if you don't settle down the next pass around the room you make I will stick out my cane and trip you."

With an apologetic shrug, Rosemary dropped into the chair catty corner from Scarlett's. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, why?"

"Because I wondered if you were in any pain and that's why you are so irritable."

"I am not irritable. I was merely stating a fact."

"You threatened to trip me."

"No, I told you I would. That's more of a promise than I threat."

Taking up a magazine, Rosemary ideally paged through it. "How many dresses are you planning on having made for Ella?"

"Thirty, at least."

"How many?" exclaimed Rosemary, doubting her own ears.

"Thirty," repeated Scarlett, "that's a start but, of course, there's underpinnings to be considered and then I'll have to send her out with Penny to get some new boots and stockings and hair ribbons and such. Although," she said, lowering her voice to a conspirative whisper, "if I can manage perhaps I can take her myself for the bulk of it next week when Rhett's away."

Rosemary sputtered, her voice quavered as she cautioned Scarlett against such a massive social faux pas, "You can not have thirty dresses made for Ella. Most little girls make do with no more than ten, and even that is considered showy. Why, you'd be the talk of Charleston if you were to buy that many dresses for a child."

"I don't care what anyone thinks of me," she declared coolly and Rosemary could see that was not false bravado; Scarlett honestly didn't care how anyone saw her. She was in full possession of all of Rhett's affections and that was making her disdainful of the opinions of others. It would seem, at least in Rosemary's humble opinion, that now that she had won Rhett's love she was no longer going to cultivate the appearance of a demure, well breed woman who followed completely society rules and lived up to the expectations imposed on her by her class. "And speaking of people who need whole new wardrobes, you could do with a dozen new frocks yourself."

Yes, thought Rosemary, The halcyon days of Scarlett's campaign to win over Rhett and Charleston were clearly over. "Me? A dozen dresses? Don't be absurd. Perhaps I could have one new dress made, two at the most; but I honestly think I can do quite well with what I already have thank you very much."

Scarlett was noticeably peevish as she looked Rosemary up and down. The dress that Rosemary was wearing was a mauve and chestnut brown afternoon dress that Scarlett had ordered on an impulse before coming to Charleston. In Mrs. Trannan's shop in Atlanta the colors had seemed flattering to Scarlett's soft ivory complexion. She'd been in such a hurry that she hadn't had time to try the dress on till after coming to Charleston. Once she had tried it on she'd immediately regretted the expenditure. The shape of the dress was handsome, with its bodice fitted closely and it's fashionable cuirasses and princess body. The dress's slim style, emphasized by lots of tiny buttons at the center front, was cleverly constructed to look like tiny silver half moons. But nothing could disguise the fact that the style needed a proportionate tall form, which, despite Scarlett's many positive attributes, she did not posses. "Now that I am up and about again I am reclaiming my purloined wardrobe, although you may keep the dress you are wearing now to give you a start," she offered with a magnanimous smile, "Your dresses are woefully out of date, even by Charleston's standards of genteel poverty. The few passable dresses you do have are splotched with ink stains. No doubt you could use some new underpinnings yourself."

"Couldn't we go through my wardrobe first before we make an hasty assumptions?"

"Let's not and say we did. I am going to tell Mrs. Benson that you are in desperate need of clothes that suit you. If she can't find the time or a needlewoman then perhaps she'll recommend someone."

"Scarlett, people draw their belts tight in Charleston. I know you only want Ella to look her best, but you are going to only set people's tongues wagging if she has a different dress for every day of the month. The only children so richly kipped out are the daughters of Yankee's or scallywags. If you would only think about it, you'd see you shouldn't, not because I say you shouldn't, but because you'll only embarrass Rhett and Ella."

Scarlett's jaw was set as she gestured helplessly, "She has next to nothing to wear, Rosemary."

Her heart broke for Scarlett, she knew that part of the reason she wanted to overdo things when it came to Ella was to assuage her guilt at the child's earlier treatment, but if she bought Ella a wardrobe to rival that of a little princess it would only create ill feelings in the very people Scarlett so passionately wanted to accept both her and her children. "What would you rather her have, clothes or friends?"

Scarlett's face twisted, fleetingly. Her expression was ugly, harsh with pain and, what Rosemary suspected to be, guilt. "Friends, of course."

"Good, then let Mrs. Benson guide you. She'll make sure that Ella has everything she should."

"Fine," relented Scarlett reluctantly, "but, nothing homely. I can accept her only having a few dresses, but they are all going to suit her."

"I didn't say that you should rub ashes in her hair and dress her in a hair shirt and sack cloth, I'm just cautioning you to curtail your spending."

Scarlett shrugged, "When people find out that Mrs. Benson is sewing for Ella, don't you think they'll know that we must have paid her handsomely to make exceptions to her normal routine."

"In Charleston Scarlett, knowing and suspecting are two completely different things. Sometimes, you have to do what is acceptable."

Scarlett lifted her hand to rub her temple before briefly squeezing the bridge of her nose. Rosemary, who'd always been talented when it came to observing other people, knew that those motions were the indicators that Scarlett had a headache coming on.

_When she'd asked Rhett about Scarlett's migraines he'd, at first, dismissed her out of hand. "Scarlett", he'd told her, "doesn't have migraines, or any other delicate lady like fits of illness. She's as healthy as an ox and just as hard headed." _

_She'd continued to speak though, trying to make her brother see that, while she wasn't overly fond of Scarlett, the woman was obviously in some sort of state of discomfort. "She does though," countered Rosemary. "I can always tell when you've exchanged words because later she rubs at her forehead as though her very brain is aching. When she is tired, it happens then too. She goes pale and she looks ill."_

_Her brother's head came up sharply. "And she looks as though she's about to faint?"_

"_There," crowed Rosemary triumphantly, "You've seen it too, what do you think could cause it?"_

_The concern that she had seen was gone now as he offered a suggestion. "She isn't taking care of herself. It used to be that the world could be ending and Scarlett's appetite would still be good, now she hardly eats a thing," he said blandly._

_She frowned. "Do you think that's all there is to it? Poor nutrition is causing Scarlett to have violent headaches? That just sounds absurd. Did she ever have them in Atlanta?"_

_With a grimace he answered shortly, "Yes."_

"_Was she eating poorly then too?" prodded Rosemary._

_Rhett's jaw tightened and had she been paying attention to her brother's expression, she would have changed the subject. "Leave it alone Rosemary."_

"_What did I say? I only asked if she had headaches when you lived in Atlanta."_

_"Yes, she did," his voice lost all emotion till it was flat and dead, "after her miscarriage. She fell down that massive flight of stairs; hitting her head who knows how many times, it's no surprise she has headaches."_

_Rosemary placed her hand over Rhett's. "You've never talked about that, I'm sorry Rhett. I'm so sorry for everything you've suffered."_

_He pulled his hand back and turned his attention back to the papers before him. "Don't feel sorry for me. If you're looking to feel for anyone, feel sorry for Scarlett. He life would have been a hell of a lot less complicated but for me."_

_"Rhett! After everything she's done to you…"_

_He smiled then, his lips twisting into a death head's grin. "Don't fool yourself. I gave every bit as good as I got," his face clouded and she could see the pain in his dark eyes even as his expression smoothed till it became the flat, emotionless mask that was so often in place since his return to their mother's house, "and sometimes I gave even better than I got."_

"Scarlett? Would you like some tea? A glass of water or something to eat?"

"No, thank you." She gave a bark of laughter that sounded harsh and unlike her. "Don't you find it absurd sometimes Rosemary, I mean, don't you sometimes just nearly burst to share the joke, that you in fact have a brain in your head and opinions and well feelings that aren't governed by what a bunch of pinch faced, humorless old cows think?"

"It's been hard on you, hasn't it? Trying to force yourself to fit in here?"

She looked away, twisting her wedding ring around her slim finger. "I suppose."

"You weren't received anymore in Atlanta, isn't that right?"

"Yes," replied Scarlett tightly.

"Mother doesn't know that."

Some color had returned to Scarlett's face. "Good. Has she ever mentioned it to you?"

"Well, she did wonder why so few ladies came to call on you after you were sick, but Mrs. Wilkes was obviously a lady so mother just assumed that they were waiting for you to be up to entertaining company to come calling."

"You're mother isn't stupid. She knows that I was an outcast. If she couldn't tell when you came after my accident, then she must have noticed how people treated me at Bonnie's funeral. And, if by some twist of chance she didn't see it then, my aunts must have surely regaled her with tales of their wayward, shameful niece," she said. her voice trembling slightly.

Rosemary looked at her sister in law with a combination of pity and awe. How could any one woman be so strong, so determined to shoulder so much without letting her true self shine through? Who had taught Scarlett that she should conceal her tears and vulnerabilities? "I didn't mean to upset you. I just was trying to tell you that Rhett is impressed at how you've won over so many of the women who "matter" in Charleston society. Sally and Miss Julia and Emily and Sally's cousin Rachel, they are all women who count and they all adore you. Sally talks about you nonstop, look at Toby, she sent you a dog. If she didn't think that you were a paragon of virtue she'd have sent a note, not a dog. To her entrusting the care of a dog is like entrusting the care of children, something not to be decided lightly…" Rosemary trailed off guiltily, thinking of Ella and Wade.

Scarlett's green eyes were darkened by annoyance and Rosemary turned her attention back to the magazine in her lap. "This is pretty, what do you think Scarlett," asked Rosemary, handing Scarlett an issue of Harper's.

Sensing the olive branch that was being offered, Scarlett reciprocated in kind. "In lilac or perhaps a honey yellow, but with less lace. Ella tries, but she just can't seem to help but snag any trim clear off her dresses," said Scarlett fondly.

Rosemary nodded and picked up another magazine from the pile. "Scarlett?"

"Hmm," she murmured, turning the page to another dress she was considering having made up for herself.

"If I asked you something that was particularly delicate, would you give me an honest answer? I'd ask mother, but she'd only stammer and become flustered or tell me that I was putting the cart before the horse or some such nonsense."

Snapping the fashion journal closed, Scarlett heaved an impatient sigh. "What is it that you want to ask me Rosemary? You're sure taking a round about path and trust me, getting me angry isn't to your advantage." Never one to shy from the unpleasant, she took the bit between her teeth and asked, "Rosemary, this doesn't have to do with Doctor Cross, does it?"

"Not directly. It's more a, well; I don't know what sort of thing it has to do with. But, you are the only women of my acquaintance that I can ask questions of and hope to get an honest answer. It's just as you were saying, I can't pretend I am an innocent without any sort of curiosity towards certain things."

"Fine, ask away."

"When you and Rhett are," Rosemary blushed to the very roots of her ebony hair, belying her previous claim of not being an innocent, "When you're together, does what he does to you hurt? In bed I mean," she clarified unnecessarily.

"Oh," cried Scarlett. "Rosemary, why would you think such a thing?"

"The other afternoon, when the children arrived I came home and I heard," she ducked her head, before continuing in a rush, "When I came upstairs to tell you that I was sorry I was so late I heard you yelling for Rhett, but then I heard Rhett too and I thought you had fallen out of bed or something, I swear if I had thought for one minute that you two were…" she trailed off as Scarlett's eyes widened in an expression of amusement and horror.

"Tell me you didn't Rosemary, please, just tell me that you didn't…"

"Open the door and see things that may quite possibly scar me for the rest of my days? Umm, a little," she confessed reluctantly.

"I am going to strangle your brother," cried Scarlett, "If he'd only stopped to lock the door, but no he was so eager…" It was Scarlett's turn to blush. She lifted the palms of her hands to cup her cheeks. Gently, in a circular motion she massaged her temples with her fingertips.

"Eager for what," teased Rosemary with a wicked grin, Come now, confess. You've been married three times, is it different with different men?"

Her hands dropped from her face. "Is what different?"

"Their dinner conversation," replied Rosemary, before rolling her eyes dramatically, "Intimate relations, of course"

"ROSEMARY!" she exclaimed, "I am not about to sit here and detail for you that sort of thing. Rhett and Miss Eleanor would be furious."

"Not half as furious as mother would be with Rhett if she knew the sorts of books he gets and doesn't bother to lock away from inquisitive eyes. Please, It's not that I'm not sure of the mechanics of it all, I just wanted to know more about what is it like. I just want to know. I've read so many different books and I feel like for everything I know about the things that go on between men and women, half of it seems horrible and the rest unbelievable."

Her eyes narrowed, as she reconsidered the first half of Rosemary's comments. "What sorts of books does Rhett get," asked Scarlett suspiciously before she threw up her hands, "Never mind, I don't what to know, what I do want to know is why the sudden need to know about the…well what a husband and wife do when they are together? This is the sort of conversation a girl has before marriage, not as idle chitchat." Scarlett sucked in a sudden breath, her face drawn with abject misery at the tragedy that was just waiting to befall Rosemary, not to mention herself when Rhett got wind of what had been going on behind his back. "Tell me you haven't done anything foolish?"


	80. Venting Spleen this is for Dani

"Scarlett!" Rosemary looked at her reproachfully. "How could you think that of Jason? He is the most wonderful man in the world, just the other day, when I left Jason's, he could have taken advantage and kissed me but he was too much of a gentleman. He told me to leave before he acted inappropriately toward me."

As Scarlett looked on in a state of horrified silence, Rosemary's dark eyes, so like Rhett's, grew wide and dreamy. Never had she seen that far away look in Rhett's eyes, but on the long ago day Rhett had proposed, if she'd had a mirror she would have recognized such a lost, woolgathering look. It was the same dreamy haze that had been in her eyes the day Rhett asked her to marry him and she'd recalled all the moments she'd spent with Ashley and what she'd believed to be her undying love for him.

Rosemary was too lost in her own mind to notice her sister in law's stricken expression. All that mattered was the way his lips had caressed her forehead when he'd leaned forward to kiss her goodbye. He'd called her his sweet girl, his sweet naïve girl, her mind corrected snidely. Well, she wouldn't be naïve forever. Not if Scarlett would simply answer her questions and not act like such a priggish matron, she thought.

"You were at his home, with who?" she asked hoarsely. Her face was pale now, the strain of her illness had been slowly fading as she and Rhett had moved closer toward one another. Now, with each damning admissions, each more awful than the last, a deathly sickroom pallor replaced her previously rose tinged complexion.

"We didn't have a chaperone," replied Rosemary smugly, "Jason gave his house keeper the morning off. I slipped in the back gate. I wasn't there very long and nothing indecorous happened."

Taken aback by Rosemary's lack of sense, Scarlett desperately tried to make her see the danger of her indiscretion. "Nothing indecorous happened?" Just you being there, alone with him could destroy your reputation. Rosemary, you'd be ruined, the scandal would destroy your mother and Rhett…"

Jumping to her feet, Rosemary moved across the room till she stood near the window. Her body was tensed, drawn as tight as the string of bow. And then as lethal as a hunter, she let a barrage of verbal arrows fly at her prey.

"You can't be serious?" cried Rosemary, "You? You, of all people are going to dare lecture me about how morally unacceptable what I did was? I thought you might understand, after all Rhett told me plenty about the way you acted in Atlanta before you got here. He told me that you were found in another man's arms while you were married. And the man was married to your closest friend."

The instant she finished venting her spleen she knew that she'd made a terrible mistake. It wasn't Scarlett she really wished to rage at, it was at Rhett and her mother that deserved to be the targets of her feelings of indignation and anger.

Realizing she had gone too far, Rosemary wracked her brain trying to think of something to say that might defuse the situation and disburse the heavy ominous feeling that hung in the air. To late she realized that Scarlett was not some shrinking violet to be cowered by hot words and a fierce scowl. After all, she had been Rhett's wife for years and survived his cutting words and bitter stinging sarcasm. And in the course of their relationship she had managed something most other people never had. She had been able to inflict wounds of her own.

If Rosemary had raked her nails across Scarlett's face she would not have incited such a response. Waves of intense hatred and disgust engulfed her till they blotted out all memory of the camaraderie that had been developing between them over the last few weeks. Nothing would satisfy her except the feeling of Rosemary's cheek against the palm of her hand and the resounding crack of flesh hitting flesh.

She could only remember feeling this all-encompassing rage twice in her entire life; when Ashley told her that he was going to marry Melly and again when Rhett coolly told her 'Cheer up, you might have a miscarriage.'

Both times she'd attacked her tormentor physically, but the woman who'd resorted to puerile fits of violence was gone, washed away in a baptism by fire. She had come to acknowledge that growing older didn't necessarily just refer to aging, it meant coming to know herself and seeing clearly the missteps and damage that had nearly cost her happiness and love.

Rosemary, for all that she was a grown woman, was so blind when it came to the harsh realities of life. Life was often unfair. People would rush to condemn her, to pass judgment on her for daring to follow the course her heart was charting. Look at how people had treated her because she just could not follow the unspoken, but established rules of society.

Her face was expressionless and her voice held no trace of warmth. The bleakness of her tone captured Rosemary's attention and held her in rapt silence as Scarlett gave voice to her ire at both Rosemary and the imprudent way that Rhett had disclosed all the repulsive details of the never-ending state of barely suppressed hostility and betrayals that had existed between them throughout most of their marriage.

"And while you and your completely chaste and blameless brother were reviling me, did he mention to you the consequences of my actions," she asked quietly. "Did he point out the fact that my children were social pariahs? That the good men and women of Atlanta would cross the street rather than come face to face with me? That I ruined my family's name, my reputation, and that eventually my actions drove my husband to seek out love or at least comfort in the arms of a whorehouse madam?"

"But all of that only happened because you married a man you didn't love," she justified gently. "You could have told Rhett no, couldn't you?"

"I did, at least I tried to say no. It didn't do any good though. Rhett decided that he wanted me and he wasn't willing to take no for an answer. Your brother can be very persuasive. And…stubborn. If he is for or against something he won't just back down."

"I don't see why my seeing Jason Cross or letting him court me should affect anyone but me. I know you mean well, but you are so caught up in what would Rhett think that you can't see my side."

Not a word was getting through to Rosemary, Scarlett had opened herself up in an attempt to help Rosemary and all she'd received in return was scorn and the same condescending smirk that Rhett had worn when he'd told her she might have a miscarriage. Her eyes narrowed as she glowered at Rosemary till finally the younger woman was forced to look away from the burning hatred scintillating from Scarlett's eyes.

"You thick minded ninny," she said slowly, accentuating each word separately leaving no room to misconstrue her remark. "You think that your playing at being in love doesn't affect anyone but you and Jason Cross. Your chaste and wonderful love affair will kill your brother or be the death of Jason Cross. If Rhett doesn't have an apoplexy when he finds out that you went to Jason Cross's house alone," she laughed dryly at Rosemary's incredulous expression, "And he will find out and likely not from your lips or Jason Cross's. No, your brother always has the most frustrating way of finding out every vile thing you'd rather keep to yourself."

"Scarlett, he won't find…"

She ignored Rosemary's words. The acrimonious edge had faded from her voice, replaced by resignation and a modicum of gallows humor. "When he finds out he will divorce me, lock you in your room, and kill Jason Cross just like he killed his brother. In what order he'll act, well, that's is the only mystery in this sorry mess."

Rosemary returned to the chair she'd so hastily vacated. "Why do you think we're playing at being in love?" she pressed, doggedly. "Are you and Rhett the only people on the face of the earth that get to be really and truly in love? How is it that you're so sure you know how to recognize what love is? Didn't you think you loved Ashley Wilkes before you realized you loved my brother?

Disappointed by Scarlett's unexpected, disapproving attitude, she muttered under her breath, "Who are you to judge anyway?"

Scarlett's previous fit of anger ebbed away and she was left with a sense of numbness that took the last of her renewed strength with it. The past that she tried to turn a blind eye toward would never be completely eradicated. It would rear its ugly head whenever she thought that she had buried it for good. For Rosemary's sake, as well as Rhett's she had to try and reach the woman sitting next to her.

Exhaustion made her head swim and she closed her eyes trying to rally her remaining energy. Finally, she opened them once more ready to try again. Though she wanted nothing more than to struggle to her feet and leave Rosemary to her fate, she knew that she could not. Later, she wanted to be able to say that she had tried with everything in her to dissuade Rosemary from disaster.

"Who am I to judge? I'm someone who's made more mistakes than I can recall. Maybe, just maybe, you can take away something from my own missteps. Will you at least try and listen with an open mind to what I am about to tell you?"

"I know you just want to help, I'm sorry for what I said before. I shouldn't have said what I did."

"I do want to help you. I don't want to see you hurt. Will you listen to me, please?"

"Alright," agreed Rosemary.

"When Ashley left to go back after his furlough at Christmas during the war, I threw myself at him and kissed him. He tried to push me away, but then he kissed me back. He asked me to take care of his wife, and I did. I delivered my nephew, Ashley's son, and managed to get Melly out of Atlanta. I didn't do it because I cared what happened to her. I did it all because I was so sure I loved him. If he'd asked it of me, I'd have tried to fly just to make him happy. After the war, I threw myself at him a second time, but this time he kissed me first. Everything I thought I'd ever wanted or could ever want, I found in that kiss. He hated himself for kissing me, but I couldn't let it go. I berated him until he told me that he loved me."

"I thought you told me that he didn't love you? Did he or didn't he?"

"That is what I'm trying to explain to you. That love can be complicated. It takes so many different forms. At the time I thought love was love, that there was only one way a man could love a woman. Now, I see that love for what it was. He was telling me that he wanted me, wanted me enough to consider taking me, in the middle of winter, right there on the ground. He desired me, but he could never understand me, just as I could never, will never really understand him. I wanted to run away with him. I would have abandoned Tara, my family, even my child to run off with him. I would have ruined my life for what I thought was love."

"If you thought you were in love with Ashley then why did you marry Ella's father?"

"I had to marry Frank to get the money to pay the taxes on Tara. If I hadn't gotten the money my family would have been thrown off the land my father loved, out of the house my mother died in. I did what I had to, I took the only opportunity that came my way."

"Couldn't you have asked Rhett? He told me that he thought he'd fallen in love with you from the first time you met. Surely he wouldn't have wanted to see your family homeless?"

There was nothing else for it. If she held something back now, Rosemary would sense it and assume that the omission was as good as a lie. "He was who I went to first. Rosemary," she leaned forward and clasped Rosemary's hand tightly. "I went to Atlanta and offered to be your brother's mistress in exchange for the money to pay the taxes on Tara. He couldn't give me the money though because the Yankees were holding him. I couldn't afford to wait so when Frank came along I saw my chance and took it."

It is difficult for any of us to see ourselves as we truly are. Scarlett, if asked was she worthy of being called a lady might have lied through her teeth and said Yes, then bristled at the suggestion that she was not a lady. But, in her mind she would never be able to see herself as the kind of lady that Miss Eleanor was and that Melly and her mother had been.

Yet, just as Eleanor had done for her when she had opened up about her illicit love for Pierre Robillard, she had for Rosemary's benefit cracked open her secret self and exposed it in the hopes that something could be salvaged from so much agony and disappointment. The true earmark of a lady is not in ones manners, but in being willing to tear open old wounds to prevent someone else from being hurt.

Scarlett had finally become the woman she had always wanted to be…the shame of it was that being a true lady means never seeing your self as such.

For all her declarations and worldly protests, Rosemary was still naïve in many ways. To be faced with the knowledge that her brother and his wife could have easily entered into a far less honorable arrangement than marriage shook her. "You would have done that," she asked, aghast, "You would have gone to bed with Rhett even though you didn't love him? Even though you weren't married to him?"

She lifted her palms to Rosemary, her hands empty but at the same time filled with the bitter truths she'd learned through experience. "I suppose so, if he had taken me up on my offer. But, I think, deep down I knew he wouldn't. He wouldn't take me like that because he loved me. Maybe I couldn't put a name to it in my mind, but I think in my heart I knew. I knew he loved me. I allowed myself to consider that he might not marry me, that I would be ruined. That I might have a child out of wedlock…I considered all those things."

"But you still thought that you loved Ashley? How could you love one man, but go to another?"

"I could do it to save Tara. I was willing to dishonor the love I thought so important to save it."

"But, didn't you at least think that you could possibly love my brother?"

"I told myself time and again that I didn't, I was fond of him. I enjoyed his company and even," she paused, but then considering that the good the truth might do outweighed the harm she continued, "I found pleasure in what he and I did in bed, but I never thought that this is the man I love. I never examined my heart and found your brother in it. But I knew that if I needed him, he'd be there. I knew he wouldn't have taken me as his mistress because…" Her face became pensive and when she was quiet for too long Rosemary spoke.

"Because why?" Rosemary pressed.

"Because, your brother came to see me after the Yankees let him go? He was so angry with Ashley and I suppose with me for being such an impractical fool when it came to all things concerning Ashley. He was so furious and he actually frightened me a little when he told me that if Ashley loved me, then why did he allow me to come to Atlanta to get the tax money? He thought that Ashley should have known what I would do if I was desperate."

The image of her brother in a barely restrained fit of jealously sparked Rosemary's curiosity for the moment displacing all thoughts of Jason Cross. "Did he say anything else?"

"Only that he would have killed a woman he loved before allowing her to go to someone like Him for help. I couldn't see the truth of what it was he was trying to tell me. He wanted to know how I could believe that Ashley loved me when he let me leave to offer myself to another man. As it was, it killed him to know that if he had gotten out of jail two weeks sooner I would have been his instead of Frank's. But, he got me after all. Frank died and he proposed on the day of the funeral, because he loved me he was willing to humble his pride by coming to me so soon after Frank died. He couldn't risk losing me again. I lost him before I even knew that I loved him. Even though I knew how hard he'd make it for me I came here and fought for him," she found tears in her eyes, "You think you love Jason Cross? How low would you bring yourself for him, how much could you humble your pride just to be near him? Your brother and I get to be really and truly in love, as you called it, because we've fought so hard against being in love with one another that we know that there isn't anyone else in the world we could love as much as each other."

"I love Jason and he loves me. I don't have to go through all of the chasing and losing and soul searching you and Rhett have to know love when I find it. He promised me that we wouldn't have to see each other in secret forever. He is going to ask Rhett for permission to court me. This whole family, this whole city is caught up in the feud between the Cross family and the Butlers. We aren't. When he looks at me he doesn't see a Butler, he just sees me and I see him just as plain. I love him and I'd do anything to be with him. Isn't that worthy of being called love in your mind? It seems to be your definition of love…being willing to sacrifice everything to be with the other person."

"Oh Rosemary," Scarlett groaned softly, "Rhett is never going to let Jason court you. Julia Ashley made a point of that yesterday, to bring it home to me in case I thought diffrently."

"Rhett isn't God almighty. If he won't give me his blessing, I'll do without."

"Do without what exactly, have you considered what that might mean? To you? This family? One day your children?"

"If my brother is foolish enough to cut me dead, or my children, that is his problem. If you're worried about your part in this, don't be. I swear, I'll never breath a word, nor will Jason. I don't want to hurt Rhett or you. I just want to be happy, as happy as you and Rhett are. You just told me that you two know that only each of you can make the other happy. I know that about Jason. I've waited all my life for him."

"He'll never forgive you."

"Then he can go to the devil and keep Father company if he is so bound and determined to be like him," she declared vehemently in a voice that clearly said she wanted to close the discussion for the time being.


	81. Pride Goeth Before

**slightly adult at the end, readers descretion is advised**

Though the conversation, in Scarlett's opinion, was long from finished, she was willing to momentarily change the subject to appease her curiosity on a subject that was all but taboo in the Butler family. She couldn't help but ask, "What was he like, your father?"

"Awful," answered Rosemary, without a moment's hesitation. "He used to berate us, constantly. He treated me as though I hadn't a brain in my head and he is a large part of the reason Ross is the way he is. He treated his children as if they were inconveniences or property. I can't tell you what he thought about Rhett, because I don't think he ever did, think of Rhett, I mean. He never, in my hearing, mentioned Rhett by name or inferred that he was my brother or his son. When he caught me going to meet Rhett when he was coming into Charleston blockading, he beat me and treated me as though I had been consorting with a perfect stranger and not my own flesh and bone." She cleared her throat before continuing. "I was fifteen then. When he died two years later, it was like being set free from prison. I wished I could mourn him, but I didn't."

She felt a twinge of sympathy. Her own father had been so wonderful that she could not imagine what it was like to not have the love and support of one's father. "Rhett said he never approved of him and that the feeling was mutual. Did he ever care for Rhett?"

Rosemary shrugged broadly in lieu of an immediate answer and mentally Scarlett made a note to encourage Rosemary to tone down her constant use of physical gestures in place of actual words. In many ways Rosemary was coming along nicely, but the war and its aftermath had occupied Miss Eleanor's attentions during the period in a young girl's adolescence when her mother and mammy would have focused on teaching her the social graces and poise that would turn a merely handsome girl into a belle.

"Surely it couldn't have always been so unpleasant, perhaps when Rhett was a child?" prompted Scarlett.

"I can't say for sure, that was before I was born, but Miss Julia said that father was always so hard on Rhett. Rhett thinks there is nothing of father in him."

Her face twisted suddenly transforming her into a feminine version of her brothers. The jaw was rounder than Ross's and her nose and brow was less defined than Rhett's, but the way her features settled into a look of complete dismissive disgust was so singularly Butler. "If you want to know the truth, when Rhett's lips twist in that sardonic way and his voice becomes so cold you'd think it was coming from the grave, then he is our father through and through. When Ross sobers out, about once a year, he's kind at least, he tries to be, and he's not the sodden buffoon that you know him as. But Rhett, Rhett has all the pride and sheer pigheaded stubbornness of every single Butler that came before him. Case in point, he loved you, but he was still willing to cut you out of his life. When he came back here, he was miserable without you, but because you couldn't read his mind and be the wife he wanted…"

Scarlett bristled defensively, "That's not fair."

"You're right," said Rosemary, deliberating misunderstanding her protestation, "it isn't, but it was still what he intended to do."

Her raven wing brows drew down as her eyes narrowed. "That wasn't what I meant and you know it."

Rosemary threw up her hands. "I love my brother and I've come to love you, but I can't just tell myself that I don't love Jason. If he asked me to run away with him tomorrow and elope, I would."

Surely he hadn't asked Rosemary to marry him. Rosemary was no fool; she could be trusted to exercise some common sense, couldn't she?

But, what had she asked sensible Frank Kennedy all those years ago. To elope, to throw common sense to the wind and simply act. She had been in such a hurry to marry him and get her hands on the money she so desperately needed to pay the taxes that she had all but begged him to elope. Frank, so normally stodgy and sensible had been caught up and done just as she'd asked, despite the fact that his sister would be unable to be present. "Has he asked you…"

"No," she replied forcefully. "Nor would he. He loves me enough to at least try to appeal to Rhett."

"Don't do this to him, Rosemary. Please."

Rosemary didn't bother to pretend that she didn't know who the he in question was. "I'm not the one doing anything Scarlett, he is. He is so bound by the past…"

There came then from the front hall a joyful series of barks and the scrambling of claws on the stairs. Scarlett had give Ella permission to play in the yard with Toby under Miss Eleanor's vigilant eye till Mrs. Benson arrived.

It would be easier to fit Ella for a new wardrobe if she had used up some of her abundant supply of energy before the dressmaker arrived.

If Toby was in the hall so was Ella. Rosemary and Scarlett exchanged a meaningful look. The conversation had come to an end, for the time being.

"Mama, she's here," cried Ella, bursting into the room followed by Toby. The puppy bounded to its mistress, rearing up to rest his paws in her lap. Scarlett scratched his head with a smile.

"Mama, he's getting your dress dirty."

Glancing down at the soil on her dress Scarlett winced. Brushing it off, she directed her attention to Ella's own dirt encrusted shoes.

"Ella," she exclaimed, a touch of annoyance was clear in her voice.

"Grandmama told me to come straight up and tell you the lady who was gonna make my dresses was here," replied Ella defensively.

"But Ella, you have to think before you act. You must have realized your shoes were dirty. Next time stop a minute and think…" she glanced over the child's head toward Rosemary, "sometimes you need to stop and give yourself a minute to consider the effects of what it is you are about to do."

"Point taken," said Rosemary with a barely concealed scowl.

"Come along Ella, let's go to the washroom and clean you up before Mrs. Benson comes upstairs."

In her heart, Scarlett knew that she would have to tell Rhett and betray Rosemary's confidence. She cared for Rosemary, but she could not lose Rhett. Not again.

After what had happened last night, she was already at the end of her nerves when it came to Rhett. Once they'd gotten into bed she had assumed they would make love before falling to sleep, but instead Rhett brought her to the height of ecstasy till she writhed with pleasure and had to fight against the cries that threatened to erupt from her lips.

_Afterwards they were silent for a time, __he had gathered her in his arms and__ together they were simply reveling in the closeness that such acts created between them. She had allowed herself to relax in his embrace. This was the time in which they belonged solely to one another, without shame or cowardice._

_But, soon it became clear to her that he wasn't going to make love to her, that pleasing her was the form that his love for her was going to take._

_Never in the whole of their marriage had she ever initiated lovemaking. Several times she had kissed him and that had led to them eventually making love, but she had never been so bold as to touch him in a way that would clearly demonstrate what it was she desired._

_Softly, she whispered, "What about you?"_

_He laughed as he ran his fingertip down her spine. "What about me?"_

"_Well," she fumbled blindly, looking for the words, "You made me feel wonderful, but…"_

"_I'm glad."_

"_So shouldn't we finish?" she swallowed and though the room was dark she knew that he could feel the hot blood of modesty staining her cheeks._

_"Weren't you finished? The way you clawed my back convinced me otherwise." He moved slightly, rolling toward her, "Never let it be said that Rhett Butler refused to oblige," his mouth traced her shoulder blade and then, skimming the rise of her breast with the tip of his tongue he gently teased her once more, this time without a word being spoken._


	82. Coming to a decision

**To the readers of Facing the enemy,**

**Over the past several months I have repeatedly been the victim of what I suspect are spam reviews and PM's that are clearly made up to be hurtful which to me defeat the purpose of the review and PM process**

In this space I talked about what has been going on, I have now deleted it and would like to move past it and post a ...something :D

It is taken from the Lewis Carroll Poem, The hunting of The Snark

It's a wonderful crazy sort of poem and the end reminds me a little of something currently on my mind...

The Bandersnatch fled as the others appeared  
Led on by that fear-stricken yell:  
And the Bellman remarked "It is just as I feared!"  
And solemnly tolled on his bell.

He was black in the face, and they scarcely could trace  
The least likeness to what he had been:  
While so great was his fright that his waistcoat turned white--  
A wonderful thing to be seen!

To the horror of all who were present that day.  
He uprose in full evening dress,  
And with senseless grimaces endeavoured to say  
What his tongue could no longer express.

Down he sank in a chair--ran his hands through his hair--  
And chanted in mimsiest tones  
Words whose utter inanity proved his insanity,  
While he rattled a couple of bones.

"Leave him here to his fate--it is getting so late!"  
The Bellman exclaimed in a fright.  
"We have lost half the day. Any further delay,  
And we sha'nt catch a Snark before night!"

Fit the Eighth

THE VANISHING

They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care;  
They pursued it with forks and hope;  
They threatened its life with a railway-share;  
They charmed it with smiles and soap.

They shuddered to think that the chase might fail,  
And the Beaver, excited at last,  
Went bounding along on the tip of its tail,  
For the daylight was nearly past.

"There is Thingumbob shouting!" the Bellman said,  
"He is shouting like mad, only hark!  
He is waving his hands, he is wagging his head,  
He has certainly found a Snark!"

They gazed in delight, while the Butcher exclaimed  
"He was always a desperate wag!"  
They beheld him--their Baker--their hero unnamed--  
On the top of a neighboring crag.  
Erect and sublime, for one moment of time.  
In the next, that wild figure they saw  
(As if stung by a spasm) plunge into a chasm,  
While they waited and listened in awe.

"It's a Snark!" was the sound that first came to their ears,  
And seemed almost too good to be true.  
Then followed a torrent of laughter and cheers:  
Then the ominous words "It's a Boo-"

Then, silence. Some fancied they heard in the air  
A weary and wandering sigh  
Then sounded like "-jum!" but the others declare  
It was only a breeze that went by.

They hunted till darkness came on, but they found  
Not a button, or feather, or mark,  
By which they could tell that they stood on the ground  
Where the Baker had met with the Snark.

In the midst of the word he was trying to say,  
In the midst of his laughter and glee,  
He had softly and suddenly vanished away---  
For the Snark was a Boojum, you see.


	83. Reflection

_**They say that evil contains the seeds of it's own demise. I suppose that must be so because from cruelty has come love. Just as I cannot understand how some people can be so cruel, it is beyond my comprehension how others can be so loving, so supportive, and with a self-conscious blush so complementary. I make no promises as to the future of FTE, but I had a chapter and it seems I have readers for it so pax.**_

_**And to the knollies, if I had know there were so many of you here Rhett would have been drinking scotch from the start (because all sexy bad boys drink it)**_

She clucked her tongue and Toby sat attentively at her feet. Wade had taken it upon himself to try and teach the puppy several commands and by the way the dog had responded she saw that he must have made progress.

Though she hated to admit it, Sally had known just what she needed. Toby was such a sweet, loveable animal. He only wanted to be loved by the people around him. Even Ella, who was so normally timid around animals, adored him.

She could not stop reflecting on the previous evening. Eventually Rhett's body became heavy against hers and she was nearly lolled to sleep by his deep, rhythmic breathing. Lying there in the darkness she could not find relief from the incessant buzzing of self-doubt and worry that plagued her.

She had fully expected that he would make love to her before the end of the night, but after the second time he had worshipped her body with his hands and mouth she had felt so deeply sated by pleasure that she could hardly move.

His prolonged veneration of her entire body had, in the end, taken her to a moment of blinding ecstasy that she could never have imagined. But still her mind cried out, why? Why hadn't he finished making love to her? When she had asked him again he had told her that---

"There are a thousand ways to be intimate with one another and I'm going to spend the rest of our life illustrating every one."

She knew that there was more to it than that. He had been so controlled last night, as though he had been afraid of losing himself in her body. A specific reason did not present itself in her mind. She had looked at the situation from as many angles as she could. There was nothing that stood out clear shades of black and white, so once more she was forced to delve into the shades of gray that seemed to color their lives.

Why would he suddenly try to draw himself back when they'd come so far? He knew she loved him and vice versa. They had already made love several times over the past few days. He'd wanted her and had given up all pretensions of control. On the beach after the storm he had been the lascivious lover that had taken her upstairs the night of the surprise party. It had been because of that night that she finally examined her feelings when it came to Rhett.

An electric jolt went through her. It wasn't just that night that had made her reexamine her marriage. It had been the ensuing pregnancy that had made her so eager for Rhett's return so she could tell him how much she wanted their child, because she wanted it's father.

It had been two and a half years since the fall and miscarriage. They had never spoken of it save once, last week. Even then they'd only discussed how much she wanted the baby, not the aftermath of it's loss. It had taken several months for her to fully recover and even now her menses were still not regular. Some months they wouldn't come at all or were over in a day or two. Then the following month she was plagued by cramps that nearly doubled her in two and blood that when it finally flowed was the color of aged bricks.

It frightened her, these constant inconsistencies, but she was too embarrassed to address the issue with Doctor Meade. If she had a circle of friends with whom she were on intimate terms then perhaps she could have brought it to them but, since Melly had passed, she had been bereft of female companionship.

She had never told Rhett that she had such erratic menses. After the accident they had never again engaged in relations so it didn't seem wholesome to address such a humiliating condition. In all honesty, she had dreaded discussing something like that with him. But now, things had changed drastically. He had a right to know in case it made conceiving a child difficult. With them sharing a bed then certainly it was an eventuality that might come to pass, the birth of another child. But, could it be that he didn't want her to have a baby? Was he trying to prevent her from conceiving? After their quarrel last night maybe he doubted her commitment to both him and their marriage?

Did he want another baby? Did she? That was such a difficult question with a myriad of answers. There was a part of her that ached for her lost children. A part that would have given anything to have Bonnie back or to see the face of the child that had never drawn a living breath.

She had never wanted any of the children she had given birth to. Not even Bonnie, who she had come to care for over the course of her short life. She would never be able to say that she loved her children the instant she first laid eyes on them, But in the minutes after she had delivered each baby, when they were placed into her arms, she had felt a surge of aching rawness course through her veins.

The feeling that poured through her when she looked into their newborn eyes had not been love; she could not pretend to have simply confused the definition. It was instead a sort of resigned knowledge. She knew she would have sacrificed anything to keep her children safe; she would have died for each of her children, if for no other reason than they were hers and that made them valuable, worthy of her devotion.

Pregnancy and childbirth were physically draining and emotionally harrowing. She had spilled her own blood to give them each life. When Bonnie had been born she had been secure. She had reached a point where she expected her children to grow to maturity in a world of comfort and plenty without a single worry. Then Bonnie died, one minute she had been flying toward the bar and then she was gone, gone in the space of a heartbeat. She had only been four and the pain that had brought her into the world was nothing compared to the anguish that came of watching her leave it.

In those early months after losing her, everything made her think of Bonnie. When she had returned to the store, she who was so always so scrupulous when it came to avoiding waste, demanded that her head clerk disposes of three uncut bolts of blue velvet. She gave no reason and he knew better than to ask. She had ordered them for her baby and if she had to look at them she would be brought to her knees.

Life wasn't fair, anything that difficult to obtain shouldn't be so easy to lose.

The other day she had fantasized about what it would be like to have another baby. She had even gone so far as to consider that she might have conceived a child from the afternoon that Rhett had taken her to bed after bringing her from the bathtub to her bed.

Did she want a baby? With a slight smile Scarlett laced her fingers over her flat stomach. She knew that once it came she would be overjoyed, but the measure of time that spanned between conception and delivery that was so off putting. Wanting a baby did not mean that she looked forward to all the things that came with it. Morning sickness for one. Someone, probably a man, must have named that particular affliction because any woman who'd bourn a child could tell you that it should be called morning, noon, and night sickness.

Chewing her bottom lip, she considered the multitude of changes her body would go through as she carried a child. Her normally slender body would bloat and swell till it wasn't worth putting on anything but a dressing gown and day slippers. She wouldn't be able to fit into a single attractive gown till weeks after the baby's birth and it was a waste to make over any of her dresses because they never looked as nice once the seams had been ripped out and redone. Not that it would matter what she wore, she thought petulantly. Being with child meant she would be locked up in the house the instant it became known she was, as pa had called it with his florid cheeks flaming brightly, In the family way.

One final, sobering thought brought quick tears to her eyes. Any child she brought into the world now, she would have to do so without Melly. Melly had been the one to put Ella and Bonnie into her arms. Melly had come over from Twelve Oaks the night Wade was born so she could look on the face of her dead brother's only child.

She could still hear her sister in law cooing softly to Wade, telling him about how brave his father had been, how loved he had been by all who knew him. She wanted to scream out "I didn't love him, I love Ashley." But she had held her tongue and listened sulkily as Melly had praised the baby's numerous fine qualities.

Then with an angelic smile Melly had placed the baby back in his cradle and with her soft, small white hands she had smoothed the hair from Scarlett's brow and told her how brave she was to have borne all that she had in the last ten months.

Though she had disliked Melly, Scarlett hadn't been impervious to basking in what she considered well-deserved praise. She had brought a baby into the world and though Melanie was a silly timid little thing, she was at least clever enough to see that Scarlett deserved admiration.

It would be so hard without Melly's calming presence nearby. Miss Eleanor and Emily would be there with her no doubt, but neither woman was Melanie. No one was and in her life no one would ever be able to fill her place in both her life and heart.

She could never admit it to Rhett, but she would be happy to see Ashley when he brought Beau. She was sure he would let the boy come. Where once she had found herself drawn to Twelve Oaks and Melly because they were each links to Ashley, now it was Beau and Ashley that she wished to be near because they were links to Melanie.

She frowned, was she thinking about having another baby because that child would be Bonnie's sibling? Was a baby an attempt to find once more what had been lost.

It was enough to make her headache. She had never, in her life, considered becoming pregnant deliberately except that one time on Doctor Meade's advice after Bonnie's death. The doctor had urged her to give Rhett another baby just as quick as she could to bring him back from the brink of physical decay and emotional despair.

Pregnancy had always been something that just happened. She had never had to weigh the good and bad of having a baby. Generally, when she had conceived a child it had been the most inopportune time imaginable.

Was now the right time to try? After all, they were only just adjusting to the new direction their marriage had taken. Maybe introducing a baby into their current situation wouldn't be such a good idea.

"I'll ask him," she said aloud. "We've done this so many times that it's all the same. I won't know what he's thinking unless I just simply ask him."


	84. Move Along

_**A/N I find that I need a pseudo-beta reader for the next few weeks. This is what I like to do, I need someone to read chapters paragraph by paragraph during an IM conversation to offer corrections on grammar or punctuation (as needed). I brush up each chapter so many times that after a while I end up just skimming, so I miss things. **_

_**Must have working knowledge of grammar and must have an IM program that is compatable with AOL/AIM. I do not email the chapter and then receive back the corrected chapter. That method doesn't work for my particular creative routine. If anyone is interested please PM me (the plus side is that I am also brushing up future chapters as I work so you would be ahead of your fellow readers)**_

_**Thank you.**_

"I'll have your daughter's dresses finished by the end of next week, Mrs. Butler. Shall we say Tuesday for a fitting and I'll have someone deliver them by Friday, Saturday at the latest," said Mrs. Benson, as she meticulously packed away her tape and chalk.

Looking up from the swatches of fabric she had been examining, Scarlett smiled pleasantly. "That sounds fine. I do appreciate you taking the time to sew for Ella."

You do know that I never engage myself for the period directly following the season, don't you? Please bear that in mind. If you chose to have me make something else for your daughter, you will have to contact me during my shop time. That is the last week in April until the second week of December. After that I am generally involved in the season and cannot guarantee delivery dates. I am doing this for you as a favor. But, gratitude only extends so far."

"A favor?" asked Scarlett, puzzled by the seamstress's words. "I thought that my husband convinced you to sew for Ella?"

"Oh, he came by," she said, with a dry chuckle. "He offered me an obscene amount of money with the promise of a bonus upon completion of your daughter's dresses."

"Oh," exclaimed a surprised Scarlett. It was rare to hear financial matters discussed so nonchalantly, especially between virtual strangers. Unsure of how to proceed, she decided to be polite. "I hope he didn't offend you, it's just that Ella needed a new wardrobe desperately and everyone says you are the very best," she offered. She hated kowtowing to yet another member of Charleston's female population, but after all Mrs. Benson was the best seamstress in practically the whole state and so it was to be expected that she might have to swallow her pride and smooth down the woman's vanity.

"Never fear, he was genteel about it. He offered me the money wrapped up neatly in an awful lot of charm. I was amused by just how much. Your husband is a charming man, Mrs. Butler. Frankly, I am amazed that he wasn't able to push his way back into society years ago. I did not turn him down because he offended me. I turned him down because I have plenty of money and more business than I can handle during the season. I turn away scores of customers each year. I don't need the money, but I needed to settle a debt." She took the swatches from Scarlett's hand. "I've heard tell that you're a successful business woman yourself so surely you must know how important it is to never have outstanding debts if you can help it."

"But, who do you owe? It's obviously not Rhett, is it Miss Eleanor?"

"I like Eleanor, I always have. But it's Emily that I am settling with."

"Emily, brother-in-law's wife?" she asked quizzically. "But what could you owe her that would make you come and do this for me, for Ella?"

"Before she was Emily Butler, she was Emily DeSaussure. And that, Mrs. Butler, is why you are getting these dresses," offered Mrs. Benson in lieu of a real explanation.

"I don't understand…"

"Ask Emily. If she deems it your business, she'll tell you what it is that I owe her and her mother, Claire. Good afternoon."

Scarlett inclined her head politely. "Good afternoon Mrs. Benson."

What, thought Scarlett bemused by the woman's cryptic parting words, was that all about?

VMVMVMVMVMVMVMVMVMVMVMVMVMVMVMVVMVMVMVMVMVMV

"Uncle Rhett, that was the most exciting thing that I've ever done in my entire life," crowed Wade, as they turned into the front gate of Miss Eleanor's house.

Wade's unruly hair was even more so then usual, and Rhett reached out to smooth it back into place before giving his stepson and affectionate grin. "I'm glad you had a good time today Wade. Just remember, not a word to your mother. She would have my hide and you'd probably never leave your room again."

"I know. Do you think she'll know?"

"Not if we're careful to keep it between the two of us."

"If she asks me about it, I wouldn't feel right lying to her."

"I'm not about to ask you to start lying to your mother. That sets a bad precedent. I only ask that you don't tell her. If it comes to it ever, be honest with her and place all the blame squarely at my door."

Wade nodded before grinning back. "Are you going to buy the boat?"

"Its proper name is a Yacht, and I haven't decided yet. There's another boat for sale, a Boston schooner. It's called the Lady Christina, did you happen to see it?"

"No, but I don't really know the difference between the different types of sail boats."

"There is a book in my office, it's by an Englishman named Folkard. If I remember correctly, the title is The Sailing Boat. If you like you may borrow it, but for both our sake's, don't let your mother catch you reading it. If she thinks we are hiding something she'll be on our trail like a bloodhound."

"Uncle Rhett, couldn't you try to convince her to let me go sailing with you. I can understand her forbidding Ella, but I'm twice her age."

"Your mother was adamant about me taking you sailing. I shouldn't have taken you out today, but…" he shrugged broadly. He felt a slight twinge of guilt at the thought of his duplicity in promising never to take the children out sailing. He had wanted to promise her and mean it, but Wade was nearly a man. She couldn't hope to knot him up in apron strings at this point in his life.

"I'm very grateful that you did, sir. I had the best time I've ever had in my life. I can't wait till Beau comes and…"

Rhett stopped and caught Wade's shoulder gently. Looking down at the boy he warned him kindly, but firmly. "Wade. You can not tell anyone."

"Not even Beau."

"Not even Beau. He might tell his father, who would certainly tell your mother."

There was a flicker in Wade's eyes, but upon closer inspection it was gone as though it had never been there in the first place. "But, if Uncle Ashley knew it would hurt her then he wouldn't tell her. He wouldn't hurt her intentionally." Wade glanced up at Rhett's dark, inscrutable face. "Uncle Rhett, you don't care much for Uncle Ashley, do you? Won't you tell me why?"

Rhett released Wade's shoulder before forcing a smile to his lips. He gestured for Wade to go first into the foyer hall. "It is a little complicated Wade, we'll talk about this later. Now, go through the kitchen and take the back stairs. Go and change. I don't want your mother to catch you in those clothes."

Glancing down self consciously, Wade brushed some grainy patches of salt from his vest.

"Yes sir."

Rhett watched till he disappeared around the corner of the hall. He didn't regret taking Wade out sailing. They had both enjoyed themselves immensely. He wanted nothing more than for the children to be comfortable around him again. With Ella it had been blessedly simple, they had fallen back into their old habits in no time, but there had been a wary cautious air about Wade during their dealings since he'd arrived.

While they had been at the mines, he had begun to start a heart to heart with the boy, but with the hustle and bustle it had been impossible to address the topics he wanted to raise. How does one say, "I almost threw away my marriage and your mother, my mistake. I won't do it again; incidentally, I am sorry that your shrew of an aunt tortured you and your sister."

The only reason the children had even been left at Tara for such a long period of time was because Scarlett had been busy subjecting herself to his alternate bursts of anger and coldness. It was his fault they had been left in Suellen's care. His fault that Ella had been verbally tortured and Wade had been beaten when he had tried to intervene. Another link in the chains he would no doubt wear in the afterlife.

Wade had told him during the walk to the mines that one evening after his aunt had reduced Ella to a sobbing mess, he had finally intervened. Though he had always been taught to respect his elders, in his opinion, Suellen had long since lost any respect he might have owed her. He had told her to stop chastising Ella or he would walk to Jonesboro to send his mother a telegram asking her to come immediately.

In his quiet, unaffected way Wade told him how Suellen had stared at him with surprise at being reprimanded. Her shock was fleeting, however; and seconds later she pulled back her arm slapping him with all of her weight behind the blow. He was sent sprawling over a foot stool and he quickly struggled to rise, but she had already begun to resume her assault. Taught to never strike a women or anyone smaller or weaker than himself, Wade forced himself to kneel there and bear the beating that his aunt doled out with first her fists, then a broom handle

Rhett had sat at his desk in stunned silence. Wade's face was placid, but his eyes burned with an intensity that was akin to his mother's. "You can never tell mother what I just told you. As things stand now, she wants to strangle Aunt Sue for the harm she did to Ella. If mother knew that Aunt Sue struck me, I don't know what she'd do. I don't know what mother is capable of and I think Aunt Sue knows that too. She was still awful to Ella after that, but she at least tried to keep herself under control. Please, we can keep this between us, can't we?"

Rhett had acquiesced and Wade offered him his hand across the desk to seal the bargain. And after that Rhett could not tell Wade all the things that needed to be said before they could move forward as father and son once more. He would do it, of that he had no doubts. In a way the macabre irony of the present situation amused him. He had spent the first thirty years or so of his life saying and doing what ever he please and never once did he consider the repercussions. Then he met Scarlett and suddenly he found himself weighing his words least he let her past his defenses. When he became Wade and Ella's stepfather he found that sometimes conversations had to be avoided or put aside for later dates. He hoped that Ella would never ask him about the black period that was rapidly receding into the past. It was bad enough to face the past with Scarlett and it would be just as hard to talk things over with Wade. By the time Ella was old enough to look back, he could only hope that their present over rode the mistakes and hurts of the past.

On their way home, they had stopped at the yacht club so that Rhett could introduce Wade to several members. Three of them had sons around Wade's age who attended two of the local preparatory schools. In the course of conversation it came to Rhett's attention that one of the members, Jonas Grumby, was moving to Europe and had opted to leave his Yacht, _Twilight's Child_, behind.

With _The Bonnie Blue_ beyond salvage, Rhett needed a new boat and the Twilight's Child was built along the same lines as the now destroyed sailboat. In fact, both vessels came from the same shipyard in New York. It would please him to be able to have another boat before he left for Atlanta. By the time he returned, the crew at the Yacht Club could, no doubt, have it repainted and outfitted, fully ready to be christened with it's new name. What that name was, he hadn't decided, but it would come to him eventually.

After speaking to the mooring master, Rhett asked Wade if he wanted to take the boat out on a trial run. He knew that Scarlett would be furious if she found out, but it was anger that he felt she wasn't entitled to. What had happened to them had been a nightmare, but to deny Wade the exhilaration, the thrill that came of mastering the elements was wrong.

The boy had to grow up and he wouldn't let Scarlett's recently developed maternal devotion hold Wade back.

Ever since he'd married Scarlett, he had never had to consult her when he wanted to do something with or for Wade. She had been so focused on the mills, and the store, and Ashley Wilkes that she'd never taken any notice. Now, she was refocusing that energy on being a mother and that was bound to create some tension. He had never had to consult or defer to her when it came to the children. Now, she would not only expect to be consulted, she would expect to be obeyed without question or distention.

Loving her did not mean that he had to agree with her. Especially when she was completely in the wrong, as she was now when it came to Wade.

Wade had asked him a question and he expected it to be answered. "You don't much care for Uncle Ashley," he'd asked. That had to be the understatement of the millennium. He had agreed to have Beau Wilkes come and stay with them, but in no way did that mean that he could tolerate the Honorable Mister Wilkes for more than a few hours. The hangdog look that would no doubt still be on his face coupled with the occasional vague looks of longing that passed over his pasty face while he watched Scarlett. To be in Ashleypresence for an extended period of time would finally push him to violence.

Somehow it had been easier to stomach that bastard's behavior when he did not have Scarlett's love, thought Rhett grimly. Having her love finally had showed him just how much Ashley Wilkes had cost them both by interfering in their marriage at every juncture.

It was too much to hope that the man would drop off Beau and leave. No doubt he would be expected to offer him some form of hospitality. At present the Borgia brand of the aforementioned was a tempting thought, but sadly impractical. After all, he thought with a wicked grin, it might spoil the meal for everyone else if Ashley Wilkes suddenly pitched forward into his dinner.

Well…nearly everyone, he thought, glancing at his reflection in the pier glass in the foyer as he made his way upstairs to see how the fitting had gone.


	85. Day

His handsome face gave no indication of what he felt at finding her knocking forcefully on the door to his surgery. Briefly his eyes flicked over the top of her head as though to confirm she was once again at his house unchaperoned.

"Rosemary." The disapproval that hadn't shown on his face was more than apparent in his tone. She knew why he disapproved, but still it twisted her heart more than she'd dare admit that he couldn't appreciate how difficult it was for her to get away to come and see him.

If his office was situated on King Street or some other respectable and more importantly, public address, she knew he wouldn't be nearly as anxious about her coming by. But his office wasn't on King or Broad Street where they would be subjected to prying eyes; his office was attached to his house. When she'd come to see him previously he'd explained that the office had been there when he moved in several years before. The man he'd bought the house from had been a lawyer who practiced from a home office so it had been fairly simple to transform a law office and two of the back rooms into a surgery.

"I had to see you," stated Rosemary simply.

"Does anyone know you're here?" asked Jason.

"No."

He took off his gold-rimmed spectacles and carefully buffed the lenses with his handkerchief. He slid them into a tooled leather sleeve and placed it in his pocket. Throughout his nearly ritualistic movements Rosemary stood quietly, waiting.

"Rosemary, it isn't that I'm not glad to see you. But have a care; you cannot continue to come here. Sooner or later someone is bound to notice. We've been lucky thus far, but no ones luck holds forever."

" I wanted to speak with you. I thought about sending you a note, but it couldn't wait."

He was still for a moment, before he gave her a barely perceptible nod. He moved aside and gestured for her to come in to his office. "Before you begin, I have something to tell you Rosemary.."

The way he said her name shook her confidence to it's core. She had come here hoping to find the man who she was coming to care for, to perhaps love. She braced herself for what might very well be an end to her hopes.

The most likely scenario, to her mind, was that he didn't love her, or if he did, he didn't love her enough to fight for them. His expression was somber as he gestured to the small sofa.

What would Scarlett do, she thought frantically. The absurdity or that musing struck her immediately; she doubted that Scarlett had ever needed to concern herself over the defection of a prospective beau. Scarlett would have kept her chin held high and radiated bored disdain. She would seat herself as though she were a queen hearing out a lowly supplicant. Trying her best to emulate Scarlett, Rosemary lowered herself artfully to the couch. In an attempt to portray herself as confident and unaffected by his lack of expression, she delicately smoothed her skirt and brushed off a few of Toby's hairs from her polonaise, but tremors ran down her legs as she fought to appear dignified.

He cleared his throat roughly before a slow lazy smile transformed his face. "It's found me."

"What has?" she asked, damning herself for allowing her voice to quaver like a school girl's.

"Love. Last night you asked if I'd ever been in love. I told you that I hadn't. I spent most of last night debating the validity of that statement. It was a lie. It's found me, and I just thought I ought to let you know."

"Will you ask Rhett for permission to court me?" she asked triumphantly, her eyes glittering with excitement.

He seated himself next to her and drew her gloved hand into his own, warm hands. She had never noticed how sinewy Jason's hands were. She could almost imagine that she felt strength radiating from them through the supple kid of her gloves.

"I won't be asking him in the next week or two." Seeing the disappointment that she swiftly worked to conceal, he squeezed her hand tightly. "I will promise you this, tomorrow I am going to make a major effort to remove all opposition to us seeing one another."

"How?"

"Better you don't know. I would rather not see you suffer if I fail."

"Tell me you love me," said Rosemary, grinning brashly.

"You?" he teased. "Why you are a conceited young lady to assume that the love that I've found is for you. Surely I could be in love with a young woman that you don't even know."

"Are you," she challenged.

"As it happens, no. But, I thought I should at least try to check your conceit with a modicum of humility."

"You failed."

"Miserably it would seem. Now I fear that I've swelled your ego to unmanageable proportions."

She drew back her hands coquettishly, pretending to be offended by his minor dig at her ego. "Nonsense. I am quite humble."

"Humble and the surname Butler. Those are two words one doesn't usually find traveling through life hand in hand."

She glanced downward, wary of one of the major walls between them. "Does it matter to you very much, my surname I mean."

"Rosemary, I couldn't care less who your antecedents were. Do you care that I'm a Cross? You'd be well within your rights to care that I bear that name. There's just as much of your ancestors' blood on the collective hands of the Cross's that have come before me. Could you go through life as a Cross? Give birth to sons and daughters with Butler blood and the Cross name? There is every chance that you're family would shun them, refuse to acknowledge the family we build together. Could you suffer all that, for me?"

"Yes," she said simply. There was no need for a further elaboration on her part. She loved him and that was what mattered most. Of all there was in the world to love and enjoy there was nothing she wanted to experience so much as the love of the man who sat next to her.

He took her hands in his once more. With great care, giving her every opportunity to pull away, he lifted them to his lips and brushed a kiss on each of them.. "You should go. You can't know how happy I am to see you away from prying eyes, but I don't want to see you suffer for it."

"I was careful."

"And clever to come to my office door this time instead of the back door. At least if anyone found you here we could simply say you were here about Scarlett."

"Scarlett," Rosemary murmured guiltily, "There's something else I should tell you, but I'm afraid you'll be angry with me."

"As long as you tell me the truth, I swear I will never make you regret choosing honesty. We can't keep things from one another, which will only lead to unhappiness and uncertainty. I never want there to be doubt between us."

"Scarlett knows that I've been here before without being accompanied by a chaperone."

"You told her?" he asked.

"I did. It slipped out. We were arguing…"

"What about?"

"About you being a gentleman, I told her that when I was alone with you, well that you treated me as a gentleman would."

"And she picked up on the alone part," he finished.

"Yes. So I explained."

"What was her response?"

"She thinks I am a fool and then she made a major point of the fact that Rhett would never give us his blessing."

"He is her husband, she would know," he replied.

"He could change his mind."

"He could, but he won't. That is why I am going to appeal to someone who might change it for him."

"Scarlett?"

"I told you the less you know…"

'Please don't draw her into this. She's tried to help me the best she can and I don't want to see Rhett angry with her over something that she has nothing to do with. He might convince himself that she condoned us seeing each other without his permission."

"Is your brother that thick headed?"

"When it comes to his decrees, yes. Rhett is the ultimate autocrat. He can't accept the notion that he might be wrong about something. How Scarlett convinced him to forgive her, I'll never know. I do know that if she hadn't been hovering near death for nearly a week, it would have been months, if not years, before he would have given her the time of day let alone his heart. I won't do anything to hurt her. She has never hurt me. In fact she's done nothing but try to help me in the last few weeks."

"If there is anyone who he'd listen to, it would be her."

"Nevertheless. I won't ask her, and I am asking you to leave her out of this. Please."

"If that is what you want, I won't ask her to intercede on our behalf.. But then you must realize, it could be some time before we could be together without meeting secretly."

"I know that. But I also know that I love you. I know that must sound ridiculous, I hardly know you."

"No more ridiculous than what I know to be true. I am, for the first time in my life, in love. And it is with you. You are the only person who has ever made me feel this way."

"Jason."

"Yes?"

"What about your sister? Will she approve of you and I?"

"I can't speak for Virginia. All her life she's tried to make me happy. Once she realizes you make me happy, she will be our most adherent supporter. My sister has never wanted anything more for me than to be happy."

"Where is she? I've only met her a few times and that was during the war and then directly after."

"She went to Baltimore last year to stay with one of our cousins. She found that she likes it there so she is staying. She says that she enjoys the anonymity of living among people she hasn't known since birth."

"If we ever did marry, would you introduce me to her?"

"Of course I would, do you doubt that?"

"It's just, I wouldn't want to make her uncomfortable."

"Rosemary, this is going to be difficult for both our families. Virginia lost all social standing because of your brother and your brother was excommunicated from Charleston and, from what I understand, southern society because of my family. That is an enormous gulf of ill will and mistrust for us to bridge."

"But you believe we can do it?"

"I believe that so long as we are together I don't care what anyone else thinks."

She rose from the couch and touching his sleeve gently she stood on tiptoe and brushed her lips against his.

"Rosemary…"

"Shush," she pressed her fingers to his lips, "you said honesty is important, well if anyone ever asks, you can say with all honesty that you've never kissed me."

"How do you figure that," he asked smiling a little.

She only smiled as she turned away and started toward the office door. "Because," she replied over her should, flashing him a bright smile, "I kissed you. If anyone ever asks you whether or not that's ever happened, then we are in the hot potato."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**a/n I was so Rosemary when I was 19, nothing is better than a man no one wants you to have...until you realize why it is no one wants you to have him...just saying**


	86. Night

**Some adult subje**_**c**_**t matter, and in Kendra's opinion not enough of it :D…I own none of the character names except for the ones I made up.**

The moonlight cast eerie shadows throughout the room as Scarlett twisted one last time in an attempt to make herself comfortable. Feeling Rhett's arm tighten slightly around her waist she knew that her thrashing about was bringing him out of a sound sleep. She hated that she was disturbing him, but she could not find any one position that suited her. Even before her accident she hadn't rested comfortably in years, probably not since the first night she had had to sleep alone after banishing him.

It was so strange to be in his bed once more, or to have him in her bed. She wasn't entirely sure how to term their current sleeping arrangements. The bed itself was the one that she'd occupied since coming to Charleston in November. So, in theory, that would mean he was sharing her bed. She had to admit she liked how that sounded. It made her sound like the victor if he'd returned to her bed. But, she knew that in reality when they retired for the night it was clearly his bed she was sharing. She had regressed and that irritated her slightly. He was the one instructing her in lovemaking and she was once more cast into the role of shy, but eager pupil. She hated to be the subordinate in anything when it came to Rhett, but when it came to lovemaking there was no other role she was suited for, at present..

She wasn't as awkward as she'd once been, however; in no way was she on par with the fancy women he'd previously been aquatinted with. That still stung her pride, that a common blousy thing like Belle Watling so obviously was able to please Rhett in bed. It wasn't as though she envied Belle Watling, but at times she wished that she could cast aside her own insecurities and reservations when it came to lovemaking. If only she could be sure that she was arousing the same sort of feelings in Rhett that she experienced every time he laid his hands on her body

Intimacy was something that she was still, even after three husbands, uncomfortable with. With Charles it had led to a loss of dignity. He had tried to be kind and gentle, but he had been eager and she had been so scared. It had been painful and demeaning. With Frank intimacy had meant a loss of control. During the day she had bossed him around and he had accepted her governance without murmuring a protest. But every Wednesday night he had taken her, used her like a dumb beast until she had conceived Ella.

Thank god for Ella. Ella had been the key to her release from the hell that she'd been trapped in. Once Doctor Meade had confirmed she was with child Frank didn't lay a finger on her again. And then after, after Ella had been born he never had the chance. He had died before she was two months old.

With Rhett though, intimacy had always been different. Intimacy with Rhett meant the loss of control, just as it had with Frank, but in a completely different way. It was a loss of control in the face of something that robbed her of reason and common sense. When she was in his arms she lost her self to the sensations his touch ignited. She couldn't think about anything except how his body felt against her own. Even in the early days of their marriage he had held that sort of sway over her. Though she had thought of Ashley almost constantly, she had never so much as spared him a thought while Rhett was making love to her. When he touched her it was as though everything else faded away, leaving them as the only things of substance in the whole world

She had never been in love with any of the men she had married. No matter how her feelings for Rhett had changed, she hadn't loved him when they had married. He had excited her, infuriated her, but she hadn't loved him. Charles was for spite, Frank she had stolen from Sue for his money, but Rhett…she had married Rhett because he had left her with no other choice but to comply.

How could she have told him no after the way he had kissed her that afternoon in Pittypat's library? He had overwhelmed her already weakened resolve by kissing her with such a violent tenderness that she couldn't refuse him. He had kissed her deeply, urging her with his mouth and hands to yield to a force that was greater than her resolve and vanity, their destiny.

If she had been in possession of her senses she would have slapped him or screamed and brought the household running, but instead she had found her self sliding her palms over his broad shoulders. Sensing that she would not resist, he parted her mouth and then the kiss deepened as his tongue caressed hers, driving in to her mouth urgently.

Modesty demanded she show her outrage at his treatment of her, but modesty had been long ago shed in the early days of their association. The world as she'd known it had turned upside down in those few minutes and so she clung to him, the only familiar landmark in unknown territory.

She had been meant for him all along. Her body had known that even if her heart and mind hadn't.

If only he hadn't held himself back once they'd married. Maybe she would have realized what it was that existed between them if he had let down his guard once in a while. If she had known what was beneath the surface of his careful, sometimes cool love making she would have perhaps opened herself to the possibility that she could grow to love him.

Then again, she was looking back with knowledge gained through experience. She hadn't understood Rhett when they were married and living in Atlanta, nor had she tried to. She had looked at their marriage as an arrangement, not the joining of two people who loved one another. She hadn't cared whether or not he was pleased with their marriage; the important thing had been that she was happy.

But, she wondered pensively, was it any wonder that she had never cared about pleasing any of the men she'd married? In every situation she had been a reluctant participant. In marrying men that she did not love, she had to find a way to survive. The only way she could was by keeping a piece of her self locked away, deep inside where no one could touch it. And now that things had changed so drastically over the last few weeks, she was determined to change with them.

With a small sigh she tried moving her pillow slightly to further cushion her neck. She was unable to find just the right position. It didn't help that not only was she aching from over exerting herself through the day but that she had something on her mind that would not allow it self to be put aside till morning. Rosemary.

It had been Rosemary that had set her mind on the tired track it now wandered. She assumed that because Scarlett had been wife to three men that she would have scores of advice on how to please a man. Well, of course she knew how to please a man when he was courting.

Any girl with a little gumption, some small measure of beauty, and the sense to know which bits of her mother's advice to dismiss and which to embrace could be a belle. It wasn't a girl's face or figure that made her a belle. Although, Scarlett thought smugly, it doesn't hurt a bit to be pretty and slim and light on one's feet.

How much simpler it would be if she could give Rosemary the excuse her mother had taught her to give in refusing an awkward social obligation…I am exceedingly sorry that your request comes to me at a time when I am so pressed by my own affairs that I cannot, with any convenience, comply with it.

She smiled slightly, Somehow she doubted that would dissuade Rosemary. It wasn't that she didn't want to help Rosemary, but she couldn't help her. Great balls of fire, she thought angrily, I couldn't even straighten out my own affairs, how can she expect me to see to hers as well?

Throughout the evening she'd sought an opportunity to speak with Rhett, but none had readily presented themselves. After supper he'd taken Ella for a walk along the battery so that she would not feel neglected because of the time he was spending with Wade. By the time they'd returned there was no time for a conversation. Ella had wanted a story and not just any story, but one about her and Toby that Scarlett would have to create. With imagination not being one of her strong points she was forced to cobble together a rather unimpressive story that Ella never the less embraced eagerly. She finally drifted off after making Scarlett swear to tell her the next bit the following night.

She would have closeted herself in her room with Rhett, but her time was not her own. Wade's clothes needed to be sorted through to see what would need to be replaced during his visit to Rhett's tailor in the morning. That had been a huge chore as nearly all of Wade's clothes were not even fit for donation to Miss Eleanor's numerous committees and charitable organizations. She would have been mortified to have any one know that such threadbare cast offs had once belonged to her son.

After drafting a list three pages long she had bid Wade a good night only to find that Rhett had go to see his cousin, Eustace, bringing Rosemary along with him. Miss Eleanor told her pleasantly that she was welcome to sit up with her while she waited but she declined pleading exhaustion. Except, she hadn't been making an excuse, she was exhausted. Physically and emotionally depleted.

Her sister had clearly alternated between abusing and neglecting Wade and Ella. There was something else that Wade thought he was keeping from her. She saw it in the way he cringed when she mentioned going to Tara in a few months to have words with Sue. There had been a queer, nearly angry glint in his eyes at the mention of Suellen's name.

With Wade, unlike Rhett, she had no difficulties in addressing unpleasant subjects. Flat out she asked him what else had happened at Tara. And, without looking away her once shy, prone to stuttering son met her piercing gaze with his own calm brown eyes and answered enigmatically, "What's done is done", before changing the subject to whether he should ask Uncle Rhett to find a place where they might order him some dungarees for when they were over at the Landing as the pair he'd had at Tara had been accidentally left behind.

She'd gone to bed hoping to find some respite from the aches and pains that robbed her of her usual vitality and the worries that plagued her mind, driving it into wearing circles. But sleep would not come. An hour after she'd retired Rhett had joined her and she thought, why not let it wait till morning. What possible good will come out of bringing it up now?

But that had been eleven o'clock when she had felt sure that just his presence in bed would allow her to drift into an untroubled slumber. But though she was unsure of the exact time, she knew at least three or four hours had passed and she was still unable to let go of all the things that were weighing on her mind.

"Rhett?"

"Mmm?" he murmured.

She felt the bed dip slightly as he slid closer to her. He did not answer her but instead he began slowly kissing the nape of her neck. She could feel her chest tighten at the sensation of his beard-shadowed face brushing the sensitive, seldom touched skin at the back of her neck. It would be so easy to give over to the passions that were beginning to stir throughout her body. But she could not be swayed by his caresses, not when there was so much that had to be said.

"Rhett, are you asleep?" Stupid, she chastised herself. Of course he's awake, he's kissing the back of your neck, she thought.

"Yes," he stated emphatically.

"I suspect that to be a lie of sorts," she replied wryly.

"It's after two in the morning. I refuse to be called to task between the hours of midnight and nine a.m., eight a.m. if I've finished my coffee."

"Be serious."

"I am." She could feel his low, rumbling laughter as he pressed his chest against her back, curving his body against hers. The hard, flat plane of his stomach against her lower back was reassuring. His hand drifted from her hip to her midriff. Though his hand rested below her breast, she could feel the warmth from his hand radiating upward through the thin fabric of her nightgown.

Struggling under the weight of his arm she managed to turn over till they were face to face. "There's something I want to ask you, about last night?"

In the watery, shifting light that filtered through the sheers she could see his face. Not in any great detail, but she could make put enough to gauge his reaction to her query. If he had his way, it would go unanswered.

"Rhett. We need…"

He leaned forward and kissed her, touching her mouth with such exquisite gentleness that she felt tears sting her eyes. Her mouth had been open and he took full advantage, exploring her mouth with his own until she responded. She wasn't made of stone, just yielding flesh. Flesh that was as imperfect and as prone to being overcome by desire as any other person might be when faced with such an onslaught of ecstasy.

Timidly, unsure of herself and of his response she lifted her hand and began gently stroking the side of his face and jaw with the tips of her nails. Encouraged by her response, he slid his hand down her back pulling her close.

It would be so easy to just give in to what ever came next, except if he stopped. If he did that, she knew the walls inside her that were coming down would be left in ruins, waiting to be erected against him once more. Sliding her palms to his chest, she felt a momentary pang of sadness as she pushed firmly against him.

He lifted his mouth from hers. With a gentleness that was at odds with his powerful frame, he shifted her carefully and propped himself up against the pillows. His hand lightly grazed her face as he brushed her sleep tangled locks from her face.

"I'm sorry," she whispered softly.

"There isn't anything to apologize for." He began to stroke her back, his hand idly traced gentle patterns causing a shudder of longing to rush through her. "Did I hurt you, maybe it's too soon for us to…"

Taking a breath, she exhaled nervously, as her words tumbled out in a rush. "I need you."

Relief showed on his face as he grinned, his teeth gleaming in the moonlight. "I need you too."

She smiled self-consciously. "I want you to make love to me. I want you to teach me to make love to you. I want to make you feel the way I do after we've finished making love."

"Scarlett, I…"

She curved her palm against his cheek even as she reached around his neck to draw his mouth down toward hers. "Rhett, don't talk about loving me, show me."

It was obvious from the look of his face that he was conflicted by his desire for her and whatever was keeping him from giving his whole self to her.

But he still did not move to close the space between them. She whispered raggedly, their lips only inches apart, "Unless, you don't want me anymore? Tell me that can't be it? Have you grown tired of me so soon?" Her voice shook as she moved her hand down his face. "I don't want to even…"

His arms were around her then, his lips were against her, molding themselves insistently against her own till kissed him back. She relied on the primitive instincts that urged her on. It stood to reason, if she liked something he might too. She moved her mouth away from his, but before he could draw away she brushed a kiss along the curve of his cheek till her mouth rested against his ear. He was still, his arm wrapped snugly around her waist, waiting to see what she would say. Slowly she reached down and took his hand in her's. Lightly she cupped his hand over her breast. Against his palm her pulse beat strongly, racing from his kisses. "Do you feel that?"

"Yes."

"There's never been anyone else for me, no one who's ever made me feel this way." She dragged her mouth down till it was pressed against his. "No one," she mouthed wordlessly."

He groaned wordlessly as he hastily began to work the tiny button of her nightgown, one after the other, but between the darkness of the room and his mounting need to feel her bared flesh against his own, his normally sure hands were clumsy. He yanked the two halves apart causing the last few buttons to rip loose.

"Has anyone ever told you that you wear entirely too much to bed," he said roughly, as he tossed her nightgown aside.

"No," she said, trying to suppress a giggle.

"Good, I'd hate like hell to leave you here just to go kill someone," he said, laughter softening the threat as he threaded his hands into her heavy hair. Her rebuttal was lost in a kiss that told her everything she needed to know about Rhett's feelings for her.

Afterwards he held her close; his heartbeat under her cheek was hard and fast, triggering a thrill of elation. She had done that to him and it made her proud, prouder than she'd ever been of any off her other accomplishments. The mills, the store, her large stash of gold in her safe deposit box back in Atlanta were nothing to be proud of. How she felt, drowsy and safe in Rhett's arms that was worth everything worth having.

"Ella's new things will be here by Friday, do you think your tailor will have some of Wade's thing ready by then?" she asked with a yawn.

"I should think so. I thought we might leave for the Landing after lunch on Friday."

"We'll have to take the launch over, won't we?" she asked softly.

"Yes, but you've been on it before so there's no reason to be afraid, we'll be across in a half hour."

"I'm not afraid," she scoffed.

"Aren't you?"

"Yes," she admitted.

"You weren't on the ferry, were you?"

"I was in too much pain to be frightened. The drugs they'd given me at the fort also dulled things a great deal…" lost in musing she continued to speak without thinking, "I wonder if I could ask Doctor Cross for something."

He shifted suddenly beneath her. "Would you rather I take Wade after he leaves?"

"Don't bother. Miss Eleanor could chaperone me if you're worried about any sort of impropriety."

"It's not you, I just don't trust him."

"Don't you trust that I see him for what he is? I know he's pompous and you find him irritating, but he is a good doctor."

"He's an ass."

"I like pompous, but to each his own," she replied casually.

She couldn't talk to Rhett about Rosemary now. Maybe if she appealed to Doctor Cross's sensibilities he could be convinced to break things off. Surely he could be made to see that Rhett would never allow his only sister to marry a Cross. She would make him see that even if Rosemary were foolish enough to flaunt Rhett's decision there would be no happy ending. If Rosemary was foolish enough to run off to marry Jason Cross, she'd find that her brother would sooner see her a Cross widow than a Cross bride.

**Any similarities to people living or dead are...well let's say it's times like this I am glad my husband doesn't read my fanfiction, otherwise I'd be in big trouble...A warning, the story is finally where I want it to be and we are about to start down a path I have been looking forward to since the plot bunny came hopping along a year and a half ago.**


	87. Solisbury Hill

**I think it doesn't matter what the time period, being a step parent is hard. My stepdaughter is nearly 8 and she has started to ask the hard questions. And thus far, I have answered them all the best I can...as will Rhett.**

The day was fine and clear as Rhett and Wade walked through Marion Square on their way to meet with Rhett's tailor The night before Scarlett had sat in judgment of the Wade's wardrobe. After nearly two hours of jotting lists and muttering vague threats against Suellen's person that would be carried out upon their next meeting, she had pronounced judgment; everything Wade had brought with him would need to be replaced. She had finished finally with five pages covered, front and back, with her neat copperplate script.

Wade had insisted that he could be trusted to carry the list and his mother had agreed without an argument. Wade's mind wandered to his mother's earlier behavior. She had been so strange when they'd left the house earlier, alternately bright and wary. He wished that she would take him into her confidence, but that wasn't his mother's way. She would shoulder what ever was worrying her alone till it passed. He wondered if Uncle Rhett had noticed, but he didn't want to cause further trouble for his mother by drawing Rhett's attention if he hadn't noticed.

They had left the house, walking in companionable silence. Rhett was loath to bring up unpleasant subjects, but Scarlett's comments from the previous week had burrowed their way into his mind. He knew she was right about clearing the air.

He couldn't allow Wade to labor under misconceptions or outright lies and false beliefs only to have the carpet of stability yanked out from under him one day. Better to air all the shut up rooms in their house of cards now then to have Wade stumble one day on doors long sealed off.

It was difficult to know just what to say. Wade was no longer a child, but he wasn't yet a man. Opinions were forming themselves in his mind everyday and Rhett was well aware of just how hard it was to change a long held opinion once it took hold.

"Wade?"

"Yes Uncle Rhett?" asked Wade. He had nearly thawed toward his stepfather in the last few days. His mother, though still confined to the house and on bed rest for much of the day, was happier than he had ever seen her. His stepfather, who had made no secret of how much he cared for her, was obviously the main reason for her easy laughter and contented smiles.

Wade had come to Charleston ready to cut his stepfather dead and to lend his mother whatever support she would take from him in her time of need. Instead, he had arrived to find his stepfather nearly beaming with joy at any mention of his wife's name.

When he'd last seen Rhett, nearly a year ago, he had been drunk and lost without Bonnie. The Rhett that greeted him on the depot platform the previous week was an entirely different man from his Atlanta counterpart. The bloated, puffy flesh that had erased his sharp features had melted away revealing once more the handsome man that Wade had considered the living embodiment of what a dashing pirate captain might look like.

The only other man that he'd ever truly thought of as his father had been in a such a severe state of decline in Atlanta that Wade thought he had been lost forever. His mother had been so still and distant in Atlanta and Tara after Aunt Melly and Mammy's deaths. When she'd left Tara for Atlanta there had been a tired look of defeat in her eyes that he'd never seen before. Now that resigned, distant woman had been vanquished, replaced by a laughing, pretty woman who he barely remembered from the early years of her third marriage.

The parents he'd loved deeply had re-emerged and Wade had literally fallen to his knees his first night in Charleston to thank God for an entirely unexpected miracle. His parents had been restored and his joy was boundless. Finally they might at last be a true family, one that laughed with one another and could count on one another for love and support.

His mother, though pale and often still in bed was vivacious and at ease. A laughing, high-spirited woman that seemed to be thoroughly adored by everyone who lived in the house on the Battery had replaced the woman he had known in Atlanta as his mother.

In the afternoons after she woke from her nap, she had Wade come and sit in her room. With smiles and teasing encouragement she coaxed him into telling her all about Tara; how the cotton had come in this year and about everyone in the county's doings.

Wade found himself confiding his thoughts and plans for his future in her, something he had never imagined doing before. She had always been so busy, so completely unapproachable for the better part of his childhood. Wade found himself in the peculiar position of getting to know his own mother and liking the person she had become or perhaps, deep down, had always been. He had heard about this side of her but he had never truly seen it; he could have never dreamed that it existed still.

Aunt Melly had told him stories about how charming and sought after his mother had been when she had been a young belle. While he hadn't doubted his aunt's reminisces in light of his mother's beauty, it was difficult to reconcile the hard, driven woman who was his mother with the giddy social butterfly his aunt described his mother as being before the war.

In the last few days since she had been allowed to take tea on the piazza, several ladies had stopped by to visit with his mother. These women weren't "trashy" as Mammy had been wont to call his mother's friends in Atlanta. They were of linage that was long established in Charleston, indeed in the south. Caroline Greer's aunt, Julia Ashley, was most certainly held in very high esteem. That was immediately apparent from the way the two women already sitting with mother had acted in at her presence.

When they'd first arrived, his mother had showed him the ledgers from Uncle Rhett's mills and allowed him to page through them to see how a proper ledger should look. But, in the last few days, instead of working on the ledgers for the mines Scarlett had spent her mornings playing with Ella and her rapidly growing collection of new dolls and brushing and braiding his sister's curly hair.

Ella had confided in him that she hoped they never left Charleston in case things went back to how they used to be. He was inclined to agree with her. Though he missed Beau and certain things about Atlanta, he'd be willing to give them all up if it meant things could continue as they currently were.

Rhett watched his young stepson's face. Whatever he was thinking about was obviously not unpleasant, just deeply engrossing. He hated to turn the boy's mind toward a conversation that could grow unpleasant, but they were leaving for the Landing on Friday afternoon and he wanted to have things settled between them before that. "I'd like to talk to you about something."

"What about, sir?" Rhett's voice sounded unusually unsure, as though he was about to introduce a topic for discussion that might be better left unsaid. Wade glanced up at Rhett's face from beneath his lashes. It was something that Scarlett often did, but it didn't make Wade seem overly feminine, it just further stamped him as Scarlett's child.

"About your mother. About your mother and I," he further clarified seeing the bemused expression that settled on Wade's face.

With a cautious hand on Rhett's arm, Wade reached out to his stepfather. "I'm not sure how you and mother fixed everything, but I'm very glad you did. Mother is so happy now and that's good." Wade ventured his next opinion shyly, "I think you're very happy now as well. So, I just think we should all be happy. Whatever you want to say, there's no need to."

"You sound sure." Rhett stepped off the path and sat on one of the ornate stone benches that peppered Marion Square. After a moment of hesitation, Wade sat beside him and for several minutes they were silent.

It was Wade who, hesitantly, broke the silence "If this is about before, in Atlanta, I know you left mother. When we came back from Marietta you were gone. Ella asked where you'd gone and mother was deliberately evasive. I could see that she didn't want to answer at all, but Ella wouldn't let it alone. She would only say that you had gone to Charleston for an extended period of time and that you'd be back when you could."

"I would have come back to see you and Ella. I hope you can believe that."

Wade scuffed at the ground with the toe of his shoe before muttering, "You didn't come back for Aunt Melanie's funeral."

There was no use trying to make excuses for his desertion of the family when he had been so desperately needed. Several excuses came to mind, but Rhett saw them as just that, excuses. No matter what he'd once told his self, the truth was clear. His children had needed him. Scarlett had needed him. He could have waited to leave until after Miss Melly had been interred, but instead of staying in what was an awkward, uncomfortable situation he had walked away from it all as though he were a disinterested bystander.

Wade swallowed audibly. "Ella and I had to go to Tara. Mother wouldn't let me stay even though I thought I should. I hoped you could convince her, but you didn't come home before we left for Tara." He kicked another pebble and watched it skittle across the pathway before he began again. "I thought I just missed you, but you didn't go at all." Wade sighed, "I thought it was because of Bon.." he caught himself before he said his youngest sister's name, "because you don't care for funerals."

Rhett winced slightly at Wade's abbreviated mention of Bonnie's name. "That's true, I don't much care for funerals."

"I heard some of the parlor maids gossiping while I was in the library looking for something to read on the train ride to Tara. They said that you left mother after saying hateful things. I knew if you weren't at Aunt Melly's funeral, you had to have a reason. That was why, wasn't it? You left mother and that's why you missed the funeral." His voice cracked and he looked away, embarrassed by the emotions that he'd allowed to overtake his normally cautious nature.

"Wade?" The youth refused to meet Rhett's worried gaze. "Wade, please look at me." He complied reluctantly and when Rhett was sure he had his stepson's undivided attention he continued. "I'm sorry that you heard the maids gossiping. I'm sure over the years you've overheard a good deal of gossip about me, about your mother. That's part of what it is I've wanted to speak with you about. You're old enough now that you must surely have questions for the both of us. But, I'd rather you come to me first. I don't want to see your mother hurt by old gossip, but I also don't want you believing it."

"Uncle Rhett, I have something to say."

Rhett's mouth drew into a tight line as Wade spoke softly, his words were reluctantly voiced, but never the less he wanted his stepfather to know his current position was not that of a child, pleased by a happy ending, but rather an informed observer who was pleased at the resolutions to the various difficulties that had comprised the bulk of his mother and stepfather's turbulent marriage.

Rhett had to strain slightly to hear his stepson over the voices of the other people strolling through the park for Wade spoke gently, without reproach as he laid out the facts as he saw them. "I heard her. I heard my mother when she begged you to stay with her at Tara after Mammy died. Do you know that's only the second time in my life I've ever heard my mother beg for anything?"

"I'm sorry that you heard us, Wade."

He turned to look at his stepfather and his face broke into a beatific smile, one that lit his normally pale face with a faintly ruddy glow. "But I'm not Uncle Rhett. I heard the things you said to one another and despite that here you both are, happy. Happier than I have ever seen either of you. That's what's important; what's here and now, not things that are over."

Rhett briefly squeezed Wade's shoulder. "Wade, you are your mother's son in many things," he remarked fondly. "She always looks forward, she very seldom dwells on things. But you're different in other respects, you never hedge or beat around the bush. You have a way of stating things that comes right to the bare bones of the matter. I don't want to leave things unsaid between you and I. I meant it when I told you years ago when you were just a little boy that you were the only son I needed. I want to be honest with you because I believe that I owe you honesty.

"You don't owe me any thing." Replied Wade nervously.

"I do owe you this. You are old enough to be told the truth instead of being left to cobble together the events of the last few years. What you overheard in Atlanta, it was the truth. I did leave your mother. Suellen was also correct, I had intended on never seeing Scarlett except to visit occasionally to keep down the gossip. When I told you the other day that your Aunt was completely wrong about me asking your mother for a divorce, she was telling the truth. But she had no right to taunt Ella with that piece of information." He sighed sharply, the words sitting like cold ashes on his tongue. "I told your mother that I wanted a divorce."

"But Mother didn't want a divorce," replied Wade simply.

To hear Scarlett's position so simply stated reduced Rhett to a bout of nearly uncontrollable laughter. Wade didn't hate him. He had accepted that his mother and his stepfather had salvaged their marriage and it seemed as though Wade bore him little, if any, animosity. Wade was wise beyond his years. Wiser than most adults of Rhett's acquaintance, his stepson had a better head on his shoulders than both of his parents.

In that estimation Rhett didn't mean Scarlett and Charles Hamilton, but rather Scarlett and himself. Rhett counted himself as the boy's father. He had known him nearly all of his life and though Charles Hamilton had fathered Wade, it was Rhett Butler who had been the prime male influence in Wade's life.

Finally, Rhett removed his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his eyes. "She certainly didn't, and as you and I both know, when your mother wants something badly enough she is most often unstoppable."

"Yes sir," replied Wade, his obvious pride in his headstrong mother was ill concealed, given away by the grin that was tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Rhett studied Wade before asking him, "Wade, you love your mother very much don't you?"

Wade's expression would have been comical if it wasn't in earnest. The slight gaping of Wade's mouth and his wide, shocked hazel eyes swallowed the grin that had been threatening to emerge. He was nearly scandalized by Rhett's question.

"Yes!" cried Wade loudly, before lowering his voice as his cheeks flushed hotly, embarrassed at his outburst in a public place. "Of course I do, She's my mother, I love her more than any one else in the world."

Rhett smiled affectionately. He was pleased by his stepson's immediate declaration of love. Scarlett had been so nervous about how the children would react to being summoned to Charleston to reside with her and the stepfather that had been out of their lives for over a year. The last few nights she had been unable to put into words just how happy she had been to find Wade receptive to the overtures she had made towards him.

"That's good to hear, Wade. Your mother asked me to bring you and Ella here, I don't expect that she mentioned that to either of you. She's the one who asked, not that I am not very glad to have you and your sister here with us, but your mother realized how upset you might be after being left at Tara for an extended period of time without an explanation as to her whereabouts."

"We were, well I know I was worried. I tried to convince Ella that nothing was the matter, but Aunt Sue insisted that something had happened to mother. She told Ella that if mother died, no one would want her."

"That isn't true. You and Ella will always be taken care of, no matter what. You did a remarkable job of protecting your sister. The night after her fever broke and she was lucid enough to carry on a conversation, Scarlett asked me to bring you and Ella to Charleston. No, to be precise, I'd say she begged me. It's one of the few times I've ever heard her beg," he concluded softly.

"I know mother loves me and Ella. I know she isn't very good at saying it, although she has become a lot better about it since she's been here. I've never doubted that mother cares about us." His face became clouded and his eyes narrowed slightly. It took Rhett a moment to identify the look on Wade's face as one of anger.

Though he had known Wade for nearly twelve years he had never seen his stepson display true unadulterated anger openly. Last week at the train depot when he had asked about Scarlett, Wade had looked at him with disappointment, but even then hate had been absent from his eyes. Only sadness and resignation to whatever would come next."

"Wade, son? Are you alright?"

He stood suddenly without waiting for Rhett's permission. His hands were balled slightly and he jammed them into his pockets, heedless of the fact he was stretching out the pockets in his one good pair of trousers. Rhett stood and sensing the nervous energy radiating from Wade he began to walk. Wade fell into step beside him.

"Do you know when the other time I heard her beg was?" Wade's voice was so serious that Rhett had the strangest sensation. If he were to look at his stepson out of the corner of his eye, for a split second, he might catch a glimpse of the man Wade would one day become.

"I don't think so," said Rhett cautiously. Wade's color was high and his jaw was squared in a way that echoed Scarlett at her strongest.

"When I was four the Yankees came to Tara and a solider tried to take my father's sword… In his mind Rhett could hear the pain-filled, weary voice of Melanie Wilkes whispering " Charles." He'd thought she was delirious till she whispered again "Please, the sword."

The Hamilton's sword seemed capable of inspiring selfless sacrifice. In the clutches of agony after a grueling labor, his sister had asked Scarlett to retrieve it. Scarlett had been disgruntled, but done as Melanie had requested. That sword later hung in the nursery in Atlanta.

The first night they had stayed there as a family Wade had asked him to help hang the sword over the small fireplace in the nursery. There it hung, a silent testament to the bravery of the Hamilton men, and women. For if it had not for Melanie and now apparently Scarlett as well, it would have been forever lost, treated as spoils of war.

Not noticing the reflective look in his stepfather's eyes, Wade had continued on, explaining the significance of his treasured sword. "Did you know it also belonged to his father, my grandfather William? Someday it will belong to my son. When I give it to him, I will tell him about the men that owned it. They may not have been the bravest men, but they did what they were called upon to do. My father didn't believe in fighting, Uncle Henry told me that a few years ago, but he also said that he was a southerner so he went to fight. Only," he glanced at Rhett, "don't tell mother that because she might not appreciate hearing that father wasn't eager for battle. She thinks he was very brave and I wouldn't want that to change."

"I won't mention that to her, you have my word." Inside, Rhett was both moved and amused by his stepson. Wade was on the verge of manhood. His words only magnified that point. On one hand, he was considering a future that would one day lead to children, but on the other he still imagined that his mother knew only that Charles Hamilton had gone to be a solider and a brave one at that.

"That sword is one of the only things I have that was his. When we were at Tara after the war the Yankees came. A damned Yankee saw it on the wall and was going to take it because the hilt is made of gold. They took things that were mother's and things that had belonged to Grandmother O'Hara, but mother didn't care about any of those things. I saw my sword and I think I must have cried out "Mine" or something like that." The boy's face contorted painfully.

"Wade, this could wait if you'd rather…"

He shook his head. "She asked for my sword. I can't remember how she explained the significance of the sword to the Yankee Captain, but she did." Wade's voice changed slightly, it became both admiring and incredulous at his mother's daring in the face of danger, "and he made the solider give it to her. He let her keep it. I think the Captain admired her, not because she is pretty, but because she was strong. Mother is the strongest person I know. Mammy told me once that my father was a strong man, but if I could be half as strong as mother, I'd be stronger than most people ever are."

Rhett heart constricted painfully. He had often callously commented on her facing down the Yankee army, but to listen to Wade's discourse on his mother facing down a Yankee reconnaissance party shamed him. He had left Scarlett at the Rough and Ready so that he could join the army on a fool's errand. Left her to face whatever came next alone. If anything had happened to her, it would have been on his head.

In the end what had his presence really meant in the Götterdämmerung of the Confederacy versus what his presence would have meant to Scarlett at Tara? If he had accompanied her…If he had told her then and there to wait for him, that he loved her for her sharp mind and driving strength…If. There was that word again. No wonder Scarlett was so aghast at the thought of looking back, the past was dead. Untouchable. Serving only to remind one of his or her failings. "I'll tell you a secret," he said suddenly.

They were the same words he had said to Scarlett the other night when he was leaving for the Landing, when he had confessed that he would miss her. In Wade's shinning eyes and eager smile he saw Scarlett.

"What is it," asked Wade excitedly.

"Maybe it isn't that much of a secret, but your mother is the strongest person I've ever known. I've never known anyone else like her in my entire life."

His mother was the strongest person Wade knew, she would never shrink from unpleasantness, and suddenly he wanted to ask something of his stepfather, he wanted to put to rest a doubt that had plagued him for nearly three years. "There's something I'd like to know, if I asked you a question would you tell me the truth?"

The sky overhead was completely cloudless and the birds twittered in the trees, but for Rhett the world threatened to come to an end. What could Wade wish to know? What could he want to know so badly that he wouldn't ask directly, but rather ask permission to ask a question? "Wade, ask me your question; if I can't answer it or it isn't appropriate for you to know I'll tell you so. Otherwise you'll have the truth from me."

Wade couldn't look at his stepfather, keeping his eyes on the ground he blurted out, "When mother fell down the stairs what were you arguing about, I heard her yelling, but before she fell and I could never figure out why."

Gathering his courage, he looked at his stepfather from the corner of his eye. At Rhett's stricken expression Wade forged ahead before he lost his nerve, "She was so happy about the baby, she didn't know that I knew but I saw her going through Bonnie's baby things and she had asked Mammy about turning one of the guest rooms into a nursery. She wanted you and Bonnie to come home so badly, I can't understand why she would yell at you…"

Suddenly he knew he had overstepped what was correct and suitable for him to ask. He blushed self-consciously and muttered quickly, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked you, it's none of my business."

Rhett stopped and stalling for time, withdrew his cheroot case from his inner pocket. After lighting one of the fragrant, custom cut cheroots he inhaled deeply before speaking. "Wade, I can't answer your question because if I did, I'm afraid you would hate me."

His brown curly hair tumbled as Wade emphatically shook his head, "I could never hate you Uncle Rhett, you've been as much a father to me as my own father would have been."

Rhett's dark eyes met Wade's hazel eyes and Wade's sympathetic heart went out to him. His stepfather was clearly struggling with telling him something and Wade wished with all his heart that he had left well enough alone. Why hadn't he simply asked to hear more about the Landing or whether or not he might have a horse of his own?

"For many years I treated your mother terribly. I worry that we haven't set a very good example for you in regards to what a marriage should and could be. With Ella at least, I hope in time she'll forget how things were for so long, but in your case, surely you realize that your mother and I often said things to each other that were less than kind?"

The boy looked at him with a mixture of love and pity that reminded Rhett of the late Mrs. Wilkes. What a magnificent combination of traits Wade was; Scarlett's brass and Miss Melly's loving heart. He had been fond of the boy for many years, loved him like a son, but only now over the last few days had he gotten a real glimpse at what sort of man the boy he had raised would one day become.

"Uncle Rhett, you and mother are more alike than you think. Ella won't forget how things were in Atlanta, not entirely. I know mother likes to think that because it's been years since I was hungry and cold that I no longer remember what things were like at Tara after the war. How could I forget? I never will, not entirely. Ella will always remember the way things were in Atlanta, it would be more realistic to hope she doesn't dwell on it."

"I hope that you're wrong about Ella. I hope that in time those wounds that your mother and I inadvertently inflicted on you and Ella will scab over."

The need to know outweighed the desire to remain ignorant and Wade spoke quickly before he lost the courage. He loved Rhett, but his first loyalty was to his mother. What if he went on blindly trusting his stepfather only to one day discover the worst. "Did she tell you she was going to have a baby before she fell?" His mouth was dry, painfully so, but he managed to choke out the question that had plagued him for nearly three years since the day his mother fell. "You…you didn't cause her to fall, did you? Intentionally, I mean."

Rhett's swarthy skin blanched. He could still remember sitting across the hall from her sickroom thinking that she would die, that he had killed her just as surely as if he had shot her. "Wade! No! Did Suellen…" Who could he have heard something that terrible from?

Wade's expression was grim. "No, it was Aunt India. She didn't know that I was there at Aunt Pitty's. Beau and I were playing a hiding game and I was under an end table. She told Mrs. Prichard that no doubt you were angry about mother's affair with Uncle Ashley so that perhaps you thought the bab…"

"Wade." Rhett's face was taunt with agony. Wade had never seen his stepfather in anything like distress, not even when Bonnie had died. Then he had been sad and drunk, but not wildly distraught as he was now. His voice was strained by regret and pain and Wade wished he had never asked such a terrible thing.

"Not another word. India Wilkes is a spite filled old maid. I don't want you to give any credence to anything that you've ever heard come out of her viperous mouth. Your mother lost my child," he voice never rose but still it throbbed with intensity, "mine. I never doubted that the baby she was carrying was mine. Your mother, despite what India or anyone else might have thought, would never debase herself by having an affair."

"Why does Aunt India hate mother so much? asked Wade curiously. "Is it because of Uncle Ashley. Maybe it's because of how much he cares about mother?"

Rhett fought to suppress a rude comment at Ashley Wilkes' expense. "I suppose, in part, it's because of the relationship between your mother and Uncle. It's hard to be on the outside looking in. That isn't it though, the larger part of the animosity between India and your mother stems from the relationship your mother had with your Aunt Melanie. Your Aunt never made a secret of how much she loved your mother. It wasn't just because of your mother marrying her brother. She loved your mother for herself and though she was fond of India, I don't think she bore her the depth of feeling she did for your mother. India knew that and I think she never could recoil herself to it."

"Was it because mother helped her when Beau was born?"

"It was more than that, your mother and Aunt completed one another. Your mother has never allowed herself to become overly consumed by sentiments. She could, however; allow your aunt to lavish attention on you and your sisters. Your Aunt was very loving, she had a quiet sort of bravery when the occasion necessitated it, but I think she drew a great deal of her strength from your mother. She thought your mother could do no wrong." He threw the cheroot on the ground and extinguished it with the toe of his shoe. "I don't suppose half of what I'm saying makes sense…"

"No, that isn't true. I understand, for the most part."

"I want you to know, your mother and I are going to stay married. I did consider divorcing her, but when I nearly lost her it made me see just what she means to me."

"You love her, don't you?"

"Yes," he answered plainly the strength and depth of that love was clear in that one short syllable.

"You won't hurt her again will you? I know mother is strong, but even she can only take so much."

"I can't promise that I won't ever hurt her again, but I can promise you that if I do I'll make it right between us. I am never going to leave her again."

Wade's nodded. Now was the time to enlist his stepfather's support. "Uncle Rhett." His voice faltered slightly. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Uncle Rhett, I want to go to school up north, at Harvard."

"I seem to think I heard you tell your mother that you'd given up on the idea."

"I did. But that was when I was worried about her. If you had divorced her then she'd need me, at least I'd have stayed nearby in case she did. But if she's happy now and you are going to stay with her then perhaps you could speak to her about Harvard."

"You still have a few years to convince her."

"If I can't convince her, will you help me?"

"Yes, of course I will."

"She won't like it."

"No. She won't. She'll fight you tooth and nail if she really objects."

"It's important to me so I'm going to fight too…If I have to."

"Perhaps, in a few years you might come to change your mind."

"I can't think of anything that would keep me from going to Harvard if mother gives the slightest hint that she might concede," replied Wade firmly.

"What about a young lady? Perhaps Miss Caroline Greer," teased Rhett.

"Oh. Her." Wade laughed. "She is a nice enough girl, once you get use to her. But she's very bossy. And opinionated."

"They do say that girls often seek out men like their fathers.

"So?" asked Wade quizzically, missing Rhett's implied meaning entirely.

"Perhaps, something similar holds true for young men?"

Wade's brow puckered for a moment before he realized what his stepfather was implying. Recognition dawned on his face at just whom Rhett was comparing Caroline Greer to. He rolled his eyes before breaking into a wide grin. Rhett responded with a smile of his own as they entered the tailor's shop.


	88. Pawns

A light breeze had begun to wash over Charleston, coming in off of the salt scented harbor. She had been enjoying the cooling breeze for nearly a half hour as she took afternoon tea, alone. It was quiet throughout the house. Wade and Rhett were still out and Rosemary had taken Ella to meet the little girl of an old schoolmate. She was alone on the second story piazza, waiting.

It seemed to her in the moments of stillness in which she sometimes found herself occupying that she had spent nearly every day of her life since the age of fourteen waiting. Waiting for Ashley to return from Europe, waiting for him to propose, waiting for him to return for furloughs, from war. Then waiting for Rhett had replaced those seemingly endless moments of anticipation. Waiting for him to return from Belle's, from leaving with Bonnie, waiting for him to come to her after losing the baby. Waiting for him to return to "keep down the gossip."

Scarlett knocked her spoon from her cup with a discordant clatter. The noise drew a grimace that twisted her beautiful features into that of a woman suffering the torments of the damned. And, she thought grimly, if Rhett found out about her involvement in the Rosemary/ Doctor Cross debacle she would be damned. Damned to a hell that was admittedly of her own making, which as the guilty know is the worst sort, for she was guilty and could blame no one but herself for her current predicament.

At noon she had seen Rhett and Wade off to their appointment with Rhett's tailor. The smile on her face was artificial and she had clutched Rhett's hand for an extended moment that had aroused his suspicions. It had taken a good deal of play-acting on her part to send them off with what seemed unfeigned merriment.

She had been dreading Doctor Cross's visit since she awoke at dawn. Rhett had been sound asleep and she had taken full advantage. She had looked at his face in the rose hued light for nearly an hour, memorizing every detail and branding it into her memory with the searing heat of fear. What if he couldn't overlook what she'd done? What if he couldn't forgive her? The streak of pride that ran through her made her reject those thoughts, after all who was Rhett to offer forgiveness when he had made mistakes of his own.

She wanted to believe he would be able to let the matter go, but she knew in her heart that he wouldn't. Without a doubt, if he learned that she had at one point encouraged both Jason Cross and Rosemary to each seek out the company of the other, he would detest her. She had had only the best of intentions then. Rosemary had been without suitors and the handsome, obviously well to do doctor had seemed to fit the bill nicely.

If only I had realized just how much Rhett would be against them courting I would have never suggested they go to the flower market together that day, thought Scarlett. She had been bored and the urge to meddle had made pressed her to ask Doctor Cross to accompany Rosemary. She had always been enormously self-centered; the idea of matchmaking and the resulting disasters was something completely unknown to her.

Glancing down at the lapel watch on her dress she gritted her teeth determinedly. It was ten to two. Doctor Cross has said to expect him at two and the good doctor was unfailingly prompt. When he arrived she would not make idle chitchat. It would not serve to her advantage to draw out a pointless and polite conversation; there was no other alternative than to cut straight to the heart of things. Feminine wiles had their good points, but in dealing with Jason Cross it had become clear that he liked it when a woman was straightforward. There could be no skirting the issue, she had to know what his plans were for Rosemary and if, God forbid, they centered on the insane notation that they would be allowed to court, then she would have to try everything that came to mind to dissuade him.

The acoustical effect was strange in Miss Eleanor's house. Though she sat at the wrought iron table on the upstairs piazza, away from the French doors that led to her bedroom or the arched doors that lead to the upstairs breezeway, she could hear Miss Eleanor speaking in the front hall. None of her words carried, but her curt tone came through clearly.

A decidedly masculine voice, heavy with a Charleston drawl, made a short reply. Doctor Cross had arrived.

She waited for the doors off the hallway to open, her glittering cat green eyes focused on the gleaming brass hardware. When the door opened Doctor Cross's expression changed from searching to disconcertion. There was surprise evident in his normally unreadable blue eyes. He had been expecting to catch her unaware, but instead she had caught him off guard.

Appearing nonplused, he bowed politely. "Good afternoon, may I say you're looking well, Scarlett."

"Good afternoon Doctor Cross.." She did not thank him for the complement. She motioned to the chair across from her at the table. "Won't you sit down?"

He seated himself in a graceful movement completely at odds with his impressive height and build. His motions were always so fluid; every bit as graceful as a dance master, yet he was, at the same time, as disciplined as a solider. His hands rested lightly on the tabletop and once again she was struck by the difference between his long fingered hands and Rhett's. Doctor Cross's hand's showed no signs of having ever toiled a day in his life in any setting other than that of a controlled, well ordered environment.

He sat, regarding her with a hint of amusement. He was not surprised by her standoffish behavior. Instead he sat waiting for her to unleash a string of verbal abuse upon him. Her attention was solely focused on him, but when she did not speak and it was apparent that she would not be the one to begin their interview, he began. "As a physician, I've dedicated myself to healing the ills of humankind. In order to better treat the body I have learned many things about the minds of men, and women," he added with a composed smile. "One of the things I've learned is that when a woman doesn't thank you for a compliment before fishing for another it is because you are in her bad graces." A hollow joviality hung over Doctor Cross as he tried to bring some spark of life to her features. "Come now, you're angry with me. I can tell that just by looking at you, what I can't discern so easily is why?"

The physical traits of both her mother and father had always been clear in Scarlett's face. Her father's stubborn jaw combined with the fine curved cheekbones and facial structure of her aristocratic mother. In the face of the woman who had been born to Gerald and Ellen O'Hara was a combination of those who'd come before her. Both of her bloodlines had always been apparent as they struggled for dormancy.

When in a fit of anger she was Gerald's daughter with her snapping eyes and arrogantly lifted chin. But now, sitting quietly with her hands neatly folded in her lap, she was Ellen's daughter. Her face was set in a replica of her late mother's at her most vitriol. The muscles of her face were set as she studied his face at length. Under her intense scrutiny his face became stony and his thoughts were impenetrable.

Jason Cross was a handsome man; she could not deny that plain truth. His thick hair waved slightly and in the natural light of the mid-afternoon sun, she noticed how it was a slightly deeper shade of brown than she'd initially thought when he'd first come to see her. Her eyes met his and he held her gaze steadily. His cool blue eyes assumed an aspect so bitter, one that was at the same time strangely cold and flaming with an unidentifiable emotion that it was all she could do to continue to meet his eyes with her own.

Withdrawing a pencil and his leather bound notebook from his coat pocket, he thumbed through several pages before coming to a blank one. "If you won't tell me what I've done to incur such rancor, then we'll just finish this interview as quickly as possible. How are you feeling?"

Her red lips curved into an amiable smile that he returned. Her words quickly chased that smile from his face. "I feel fine, but I'd feel a damned sight better if I knew what you were playing at with Rosemary?"

He did not immediately respond to her barbed words. His mind was working behind his serene expression and Scarlett felt a hot stab of pleasure. She had caught him by surprise, giving her the upper hand in their congress.

"You know about her clandestine visits, don't you?" he said finally before putting the pencil and notebook to one side.

She smirked. "Clandestine visits? Dress it up in whatever clever words you like, I call it sneaking around."

He tented his fingers, a smirk to rival her own curved his lips. "I never thought you so naturally inclined toward moral outrage. Yet here it is, and you wear it very well. I would almost believe that these sentiments are strictly yours." His patronizing smirk threw kerosene on her already blazing temper. "They aren't yours of course, but I'd almost believe that they were, that is, I would if I didn't know better."

"Rosemary is so terribly proud of her scholarly pursuits, you are a well regarded physician; and yet I think that you'd both have to be completely witless to not realize what will happen when Rhett finds out," Scarlett's chin came up haughtily, "about your clandestine visits?" she added mimicking his drawl while parroting his earlier words.

"And what's he then that says I play the villain?" Seeing she did not recognize the origin of his words, he shrugged dismissively, "I imagine he'll be furious."

"It's strange, you find such a showy word for sneaking around, but the best you can do is furious? He will…" she stumbled, searching her vocabulary for a word to describe just how angry Rhett would be. Finding nothing that came close to beginning to express her sentiments, she continued with a toss of her head, "I don't even know if there is a word that adequately describes the rage he'll be in. But whatever that word might be, it sure as hellfire isn't furious."

"He has no right to anger. Rosemary is a grown woman. I am well to do, I have no well-concealed vices, and I own the largest practice in this county; furthermore…"

"You are the younger brother of the man my husband killed. Your families have been at war with one another since you all first arrived in Charleston. Out of all the women in Charleston, how can it be possible that you'd want to court a Butler? Are you so surprised that I would think you could have no other reason besides a desire to hurt Rhett and his family."

He laughed shortly, "Are you suggesting that I am Iago? In that scenario you, my dear Desdemona, not Emilia, would be in peril."

She flinched, painfully aware of her lack of knowledge when it came to historical personages. In Georgia a lack of knowledge in cultural areas in a lady was acceptable, even expected. In South Caroline, or more specifically Charleston people were of a much more scholarly bent then their contemporaries in Atlanta and the surrounding areas. She had come to accept that she would always be at a disadvantage when it came to pointless knowledge. "I don't know what you are talking about or who, what I do know is that you didn't answer my question, what is your real interest in Rosemary?"

"You Irish," he said smiling, "you're such a suspicious race for all that you are so unabashedly sentimental. Do you think it is from your mother's French forbearers that such distrust comes? The French, from personal knowledge can be terribly suspicious, but terribly passionate. What was she like, your mothe…"

"That isn't any of your business. Don't you dare to presume to know anything about my mother."

He regarded her steadily. She was angry at his critique of her mother's family, more so than he could have thought. He would bear that in mind for use at a later date. Her mother appeared to be an Achilles heel of sorts.

Satisfaction made it acceptable to offer an apology. "You are right, won't you accept my apologies?"

"Yes," she said stiffly.

"Do you honestly think I'm capable of seducing Rosemary to 'get some of my own back' as the Irish are so fond of saying?"

"I don't know what you are capable of, I do know you have been able to convince her to come, unescorted, to your home on several occasions."

"Scarlett, she is the one who decided to come, I extended no invitations. She took the initiative with no encouragement on my part. Rosemary is very…head strong," he finished, smiling fondly.

"And has she taken anything else into her own hands?"

"How vulgar," he replied primly. "That is a private matter between myself and Rosemary."

She blushed at the innuendo she had unwittingly put forth. Attempting to ignore her slip she asked coldly, "Is it indeed?"

"It is."

"This is because she is a Butler, isn't it?"

"Holy Christ, no," he snapped at her in a rare showing of annoyance. "I could care less about what's happened between the Butlers and my antecedents. My late brother, from what I've heard, was a hot tempered, callow youth who believed violence would solve everything. Even if he'd managed to kill your husband, Ginny would have still been an outcast. Butler blood on a Cross's hand instead of vice versa wouldn't have changed that. Ginny broke the rules, she had to pay the forfeit."

"If you continue this, so will Rosemary," said Scarlett softly.

"Au contraire, my sister was shunned because your husband refused to do right by her, in the words of the morally upright. If he'd married her she could have continued to be a part of polite society. There would have, of course, been whispers. Even more so if she had a baby in anything less than nine months after their vows were exchanged. But in time, she would have been welcomed back into the flock. It wasn't a lack of virtue, but the lack of a ring that condemned my sister to her fate."

"You'd marry Rosemary?"

"I am going to marry Rosemary."

Her eyes went wide with dismay at his matter of fact announcement. Marry Rosemary, that was a thousand times worse than them keeping company. Rhett would never allow it. Never. If the shock didn't kill him, the hangman would because he would be found guilty of at least two murders, three if he strangled her in addition to Rosemary and Doctor Cross. "You can't."

"Don't be so sure," he corrected smugly.

"Rhett would never allow it."

"Perhaps, he'll change his mind."

"And perhaps pigs will fly."

"You think me such a poor prospect?" His frowned but could not hold the expression for more than a few seconds before laughing. "I'm hurt."

"It doesn't matter what I think, not in this concern."

Doctor Cross was solemn in manner and expression as he lifted his hands to an open gesture of appeal. "I beg to differ. I think that if you were to exert a bit of your considerable influence with Captain Butler on our behalf, I think he'd at least give the matter so thought."

She turned her face away. For a moment she composed herself, taking in the tang of salt in the air that combined with the soft undertone of the first Roses of Shannon blooming in the yard below. The scented air was sweet and yet to fit a description to it was impossible. The words eluded her and she knew that she could never hope to describe it to anyone if they'd never been to Charleston in early spring. It was so different here from Atlanta. But, if Rhett found out the part she had played in granting access to Rosemary to Jason Cross, everything would be as it once was. He would once more distrust her and in turn she would become enraged and defensive. "You are overestimating the amount of influence I hold."

"I doubt that. Captain Butler adores his sister and he loves you. I'd say that is a considerable amount of influence should you chose to exert it."

"My influence over Rhett extends to things he'd do anyway. He'll never give in on this. Never," she reiterated.

"Forgive me if I've overstepped my bounds. I thought that you cared for Rosemary's happiness as much as I do."

"You're not very good at this, are you?" Scarlett asked sharply.

"At what?" he asked innocently.

"Attempting to manipulate me through a combination of family loyalty and guilt. Don't even bother trying to make me feel guilty for refusing to champion your suit. As you've said, you are a well to do, very successful doctor. You'll soon find someone else to set your sights on. Rosemary is quite pretty, by this time next year I believe this house will be over run with suitors."

"By this time next year Rosemary will be trying on her veil and gown."

"More likely you'll be trying on your shroud."

They sat across the table from one another, each regarding the other with disappointment.

"It seems we've reached stalemate?" His smiled condescendingly. "That is a bit of chess terminology, it is when…"

Her eyes narrowed slowly, the pupils dilating slightly till he found himself nearly hypnotized, like a rat when faced by a cobra. "The way I look at the current situation my king is under attack but that threat can be headed off. Never fear, we'll see one another in the endgame." It was the only time thus far in their aquantance that Scarlett had seen Doctor Cross at a complete loss for words.


	89. Giving fear a voice

Scarlett picked up her teacup defensively, it sloshed slightly and suddenly fascinated, she watched the dregs at the bottom of the cup form patterns. When she was a child her father had brought her to Savannah for a visit with his brothers and their wives. Both of her aunts had been adamant believers in predicting the future through tea leaves. If only she could see the future in the bottom of a teacup. "If you're done here, then maybe you should go."

He frowned thoughtfully. "Don't be angry with me. I won't press the issue any further with you."

She sighed softly. She wanted him to leave. He had outworn his welcome and she wanted nothing more than to be alone with her conflicted emotions. Except, she also wanted to ask him about the possibility of having a child, and when might she be able to start considering it in earnest. With some lingering misgivings, she gently placed her cup back in its saucer. "I hope you mean that. I can't help you with Rhett, with things so topsy turvy right now, I just can't put this on his shoulders, not after every else that has happened in the last month."

"You've made that clear. I won't ask again." He looked away and she caught the look of disappointment in his eyes. He wanted Rosemary and he would never be able to have her.

Despite his abrasive manner and arrogant ways, she felt sorry for him. His disappointment would be Rosemary's too. Poor Rosemary, she had encouraged her to single out Jason Cross for special attention and now they would both suffer for it.

"If I thought he would look at things differently because I asked, I would try; for Rosemary's sake. But he won't change his mind."

He laughed softly, his expression was resigned and despite the disappointment he no doubt felt at her refusal, he seemed slightly less anxious then when he had arrived. "You are the one violating our truce."

"You are right," she said, gracing him with a small, but genuine smile.

"I usually am," he declared with a grin.

"And so modest," she chided lightly, "tell me how do you keep yourself so level headed in the face of your obvious superiority when compared to the rest of us?"

"It's taxing, but I manage. Now then, let's change the subject," he suggested suddenly, "I came here today to gauge your progress and I've done nothing of the kind. How are you feeling? Really?"

He wasn't one to dwell and she admired that. It was a rare trait to find, most people nursed injuries, both real and imagined for days even years, but not Doctor Cross. He was prepared to go on as though they hadn't just been engaged in a heated argument. "Better."

"You've been using the cane as I showed you, using it to support most of your weight?"

"Yes."

And you are overdoing things," he stated, with a smile.

"A little," she admitted sheepishly.

He chuckled and made a note in his book. "I had expected you to say that."

Scarlett cocked one of her raven wing brows. "Don't presume to know everything there is to know about me, Doctor Cross. You never know when I might surprise you."

He tossed his head back, laughing easily. "Scarlett Butler, I could not imagine that it would take anything less than a lifetime to know everything there is to know about you. But, from our previous exchanges, I would have expected nothing less than for you to push yourself mercilessly." He took up his notepad once more. "Let's you and I run through your previous ailments, from your toes to the crown of your head. The feeling has returned to your feet?"

"Yes."

"Are the joints in your ankles and knees still sore?"

"A little. If I am on my feet for too long, then I notice it more than if I've sat for a while."

He touched the tip of his pencil to his lips in quiet contemplation. "That's not unexpected. It means the circulation is returning and the swelling is going down in your joints." He slid the pencil into the spin of his journal and slipped it back into his pocket. "All of this is very reassuring."

"Maybe for you it is," she replied, tartly. "From the way I've ached, I was afraid I'd never walk again."

"Not you Scarlett," he said, a faint look of admiration in his eyes. "I suspect that part of the reason I care so much about your recovery is because, in some ways, you remind me of myself. Of course, you are far more charming than I, but you have this," he gestured broadly, searching for a fitting word, "this...drive like nothing I've ever encountered before. At least, I've never before encountered it in a gently bred lady. You wanted to be well again and you went to it with a vengeance. Is there anything that has ever held you back?"

She flinched; so many things had held her back in life. Doubt, regret, being blind to what she had, but the most recent thing holding her at a standstill was fear. She'd only just discovered what she wanted most was something she'd never cared about before, a baby. She was so afraid. It was ripping her apart to ask about the possibility of bearing a child because of the disappointment that loomed. What if Doctor Cross told her it was a foolish dream and that she couldn't?

Why did I wait so long, she silently lamented? Why didn't I find the courage to ask Doctor Meade about the infrequency of my fluxes. If I had told him, maybe he could have helped me or at the very least sent me to someone who could have helped me, she thought. How could I neglect something so crucial?

But she knew why, on that count she could not hope to convince her self that she was ignorant as to the reasons why she had regulated her health to the very bottom of her list of pressing concerns.

There had been so many things to be dealt with after her accident. When she had come home from Tara, Rhett had been a suave, considerate stranger; so much a stranger that she hadn't cared about had the harm a miscarriage might have wrought. She could only mull over the change in him and what it meant to their future together. Then they'd lost Bonnie.

Her poor, tiny fearless daughter had fallen and the fall that had broken her neck had broken both Rhett's heart and mind. She'd lost her baby and her mischievous, daring little girl in the span of less than six months. Those losses still ached as though they'd only occurred yesterday. Small wonder that she had left her infrequent fluxes to correct itself.

Except, they hadn't corrected themselves, if anything the problem had grown progressively worse over the last three years. What if she'd left things alone too long and the damage was done forever? What if she could never have another baby? Could God be so cruel as to let her have a second chance with Rhett, but not at motherhood? She was making progress with Wade and Ella and for that she was so grateful, but she just wanted to have the opportunity to welcome a child from the very first kick to it's first breath.

After a lengthy pause, she caught her bottom lip between her teeth and chewed it nervously. At least Doctor Cross was blunt and to the point. He would not be one to give her false hope. He would tell her the unvarnished truth, even if it were a painful truth. Could she watch hope fade away with each damning word? Maybe it was better to linger in hope then live in regret and disappointment.

Doctor Cross leaned back in his chair and scrutinized her woebegone expression till a concerned frown formed, creasing his normally smooth brow. Reaching his hand into his pocket he took out his spectacles and put them on.

"Scarlett?" Concern was evident in his voice as he spoke her name.

She came out of her self with a guilty, placating smile. "I must have been wool gathering. I don't know what's come over me lately; I haven't daydreamed in years, and certainly not while having a conversation. It's something I find annoying in others, probably because I never did it before myself."

"Ah. Scarlett," he said kindly, almost hesitantly, "I fear that I have done you a grave disservice. In asking you to involve yourself in my affairs, with regard to Rosemary and myself, that was a mistake. I fear that I may have blurred the line between co-conspirators and a doctor and his patient. For that, I should like to apologize. Whatever is on your mind, be it something medical or if you need to speak to someone; I'd like to help, if I can."

Scarlett stared at her spoon, studying the delicate lines and swirls that formed a fleur-de-lis on the handle. As a person she did not like Doctor Cross, but he was a good doctor, perhaps one of the best in the south. Even Julia Ashley had spoken well of him in that regard. If anyone were able to help her it would be him.

"If it is that worrisome to you, why not suggest to Mrs. Butler that she buy a different pattern," he teased gently.

"What do you mean?"

"The silverware pattern. The way you are staring at it I assumed that was what was on your mind."

A spasm of pain contoured her face. She felt tears prick the back of her eyes, but she would not succumb to tears in front of this man. She bit the inside of her cheek trying to swallow the bitter tears that threatened to spill. But, to her great dismay, tears began flooding her eyes, and she dashed them away furiously with the back of her hand..

Doctor Cross pushed back his chair. "Scarlett, let me help you inside."

She shook her head. "Please, no. Won't you sit back down. There is something that is on my mind, it has been for some time."

Doctor Cross saw the desperation in her eyes and complied, settling back into his seat.

By this time next year could she hope to hold a baby in her arms? Rhett would be ecstatic. She could see him in her minds eye, bending over them to brush a kiss on first the top of their newborn's head and then a second kiss on her forehead. No one in her life, besides Rhett, could make such a normally careless gesture feel so intimate.

She looked up and met his worried eyes with her own level, determined gaze. "How much longer do you think it will be until I've made a full recovery."

He looked bemused at her seemingly redundant question."As I told you before, mid-summer is the very earliest. To be safe, I'd say the fall. Maybe September."

"The fall," she replied carefully, "That seems so far away from now."

"Tomorrow is March 1st. The fall is far away, I grant you, but mid-summer is four months from now. Fall is just a much more cautious estimate. Why are you so eager for a time frame?"

"Because I am. I need to know if I am to make plans for the future. You're sure that the fall is a more likely measure of time?"

"You remind me of another patient of mine. She hounds me constantly over a schedule for her recovery. Medicine isn't an exact science, I can only tell you so much, you are bound to be disappointed by some of my answers but I would rather disappoint than offer false hope. That is the exact answer I gave my other patient, least you think I am singling you out for vague answers and cautious guesses."

"What is the matter with her, your patient?" she asked politely. Her tone demonstrated a marked disinterest in the affairs of a woman that was not Scarlett Butler. She was still distracted and he sighed unexpectedly, catching hold of her fleeting attention. "Doctor Cross? Are you alright?"

"Yes, of course. My patient is quite ill. She is, it's a rather delicate manner and I wouldn't want to shock you.

"I assure you, I am quite unshockable."

"You'd have to be I imagine, being married to a Butler." She gave him a sharp look and he held out his hand in a gesture of deference, "It was only a joke Scarlett. My patient is desperate for a baby. I have repeatedly cautioned her against trying for one."

"For the time being?"

"In her circumstances, ever."

Scarlett's eyes glinted with barely concealed curiosity. Just minutes ago she had been allowing her mind to drift as Doctor Cross had began to unburden himself about another patient, now she could not tear herself away from the doctor or his current topic of conversation. Perhaps she really was similar to this patient, if she could make him disclose further details then she would not have to open herself up to Doctor Cross's medical scrutiny.

"Is she so very delicate, your patient?" Her face was soft now and pretty with an encouraging look of interest.

"At present she is. She will most likely never recover her former good health. Previously she was the picture of rude good health."

"And now she isn't? What happened to her?"

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Scarlett, just as I would not disclose the intimate details of your condition or treatment, I don't feel right doing so to this patient."

"But obviously it is worrying you. Just a little while ago you offered to listen to me, why not let me return the favor. I don't know anyone, well practically anyone," she amended, "here in Charleston. I doubt I'd even know your patient's name. Please, you'll find I can be a very good listener, if given the chance."

"Perhaps it would help," he said carefully I need a woman's point of view."

"I'd be happy to give you any advice that comes to my mind."

"I have repeatedly advised her against attempting to conceive, but she says as a bachelor I can't understand how much she wants to be a mother." He looked at her closely, "Is it really worth risking her life to have a baby? Is it worth any women's life to give birth?"

His causal question disconcerted her, leaving her to scramble for an answer. Melly, she cried silently, you thought it was worth it, I know you did. Do I think it's worth it, she wondered painfully. Would a baby be worth risking everything? Perhaps, but a small part of her thought that perhaps leaving the children she already did have orphans was one reason why it was not worth the risk. "Some women might think it was worth anything to have a child," she offered finally. "How did this happen, you said she was once in good health, why did that change?"

The subdued sadness of his manner was reflected in the solemn expression on his handsome face. "Last year my patient lost her balance and fell. She lost the baby she was carrying. She recovered from the loss emotionally, but physically…physically she looks well enough, but she is still tired and ailing. I have come to believe that she'll never truly recover."

"It is so hard… losing a baby." She could feel a single bead of sweat rolling down her back as her stomach lurched violently. She could still remember the way each riser had slammed her body as she rolled, dazed and helpless to the bottom of the stairs. Then Rhett was there with her, his face white under it's normally swarthy tan. The way his voice broke as he called for Mammy or anyone to come was destined never to leave her memory. "How did she fall?"

"Accidentally," he replied bitterly. "She fell down a flight of stairs. Her husband found her lying at the bottom. He told me he wasn't sure how long she was there. I've always thought…" suddenly, as graceful as a springing cat he shot to his feet, shoved his chair back violently, and went to the railing and leaned against one of the columns. "I'm sorry if I startled you just now, it wasn't intentional. It's just that," her green eyes were filled with concern and he shook his head, the agitated color that had flared in his cheeks faded slowly. "It's… never mind. It doesn't matter."

She entreated him with her eyes to continue. With careful grace she met his steely gaze before lowering her eyes demurely. She spoke gently with a modicum of kindness. "It must though if it continues to make you so angry. Won't you tell me, what is it that you have always thought?"

Jason exhaled a long breath, and then nodded in resignation. "My patient always wore high necked, long sleeved gowns after she wed, no matter what the seasons or fashion might dictate. Several times she missed appointments with me only to finally come with her cheek discolored by fading bruises. She came to me one afternoon, fairly shaking. Her husband was angry with her over the baby, he told her that he didn't want it. That he doubted it was even his. Scarlett, my patient is a virtuous and moral woman. That slanderous accusation was completely out of bounds and he knew it, though it didn't stop him from hurling it at her."

"Oh," she whispered, sucking in a startled breath. Her mind buzzed with suspicion, could he possibly know about the baby she lost? But even if he did, how could he know about the cutting, hateful barbs she and Rhett had hurled at one another.

Never did it cross her mind that Rhett might have told Rosemary such a terrible thing, just as it would have never entered Rhett's mind that his sister would betray such a confidence to Jason Cross.

Misinterpreting her crestfallen expression, he was swift to make an apology. "I've shocked you, haven't I, despite your earlier claims I see that I must have." He was contrite now, his face drawn with dismay. "I am sorry, I hope you can believe that."

"It's fine, you didn't shock me."

"I did, but thank you for pretending differently. In my defense, I can only say that you can't possibly understand how many ribs I've bandaged and cuts I've stitched on the bodies of women who've "fallen" down a flight of stairs, or tripped over their hems. Sometimes I want to scream at them, stop lying to me and to your self. At least be forthcoming with the truth to the man bandaging your wounds. Nearly every woman I've ever encountered in my practice that took a spill down the stairs was generally given a helping hand, or rather shove, down said stairs."

"Still, maybe she did simply fall," she started defensively.

Mockery was there in his face as he laughed sardonically. "Her husband is one of Charleston's most notorious philanderers. He didn't want her to have a baby he never wanted in the first place. He was in the house with her when she fell, but he claimed that he didn't hear her cry out? How could that be Scarlett? He murdered their child and any others that they might have one day had."

She couldn't order him to leave nor could she politely change the subject, she forced herself to draw back. "Why would she even consider trying again? If he is so horrible and you are convinced he caused her fall, why would she want the child of a man like that."

"Because she is so misguided as to believe, in spite of it all, that he loves her. That they might still be happy if only they had a child to love, to replace the baby she lost. She is wrong, Scarlett. A baby doesn't fix things, not ever. The simple truth is that he doesn't love her and she could not have another baby and survive its birth."

"Doctor Cross, earlier when you said my eagerness reminded you of this woman, that isn't the only similarity between us. I want to know when I might be able to try for a baby."

"You? I should think the fall might be just right. You'll be completely recovered, I should think. Also, if you intend to stay in Charleston you might prefer carrying your child through the cool months. True you wouldn't deliver till late June or so, but that might be infinitely preferable to carrying through the summer and delivering in the fall."

"Do you think it will be difficult, after having been sick?"

"I don't imagine so. You were in otherwise good health up until the sailing mishap, no?"

"Mostly," she replied, a dusky blush creeping across her pallid face.

"Mostly? Scarlett would you be so kind as to clarify that last curious statement. How exactly does one describe being in mostly good health."

"I, well, never mind.," she said becoming more and more flustered under his cool, interested gaze. "Please, won't you just got ahead and forget I asked."

"I most certainly will not. This can't be so, can it?" he asked, tilting his head to the side in mock curiosity.

"What can't be so?"

"Could it be that the stouthearted Scarlett Butler is afraid of childbirth?"

"That is preposterous. Utterly ridiculous." She lifted her chin contemptuously, showing open disdain for his stupidity in even daring to suggest such an absurd thought.

"Indeed, and yet the battery of adjectives you've just hurled at me that didn't answer my question, are you afraid of childbirth?"

"No. I have two children, don't I? I know what to expect. It isn't pleasant certainly, but it is bearable."

"You might find it even more so these days. I am a firm proponent of using ether during labor."

"You are?" Though she worked to conceal it, she was slightly scandalized by his admission. Everyone knew that Queen Victoria had used the twilight sleep method in delivering her last child, but many doctors in the United States frowned on what they deemed an unnatural interference. As far as Doctor Meade had been concerned the agony of childbirth was a natural part of the process and no one had any business tampering with that.

"I am, what civilized person wouldn't be? Why should women be forced to suffer the pains of bearing a child just because her mother and her mother's mother and every woman since Eve suffered? Medicine changes and so man must change with it."

"There are many doctors that would disagree, I can name one off the top of my head."

"Let me guess, some old goat with a bewhiskered chin and a disapproving frown that he reserves for anyone not cut in the mold of his dour, humorless wife?"

"I wasn't aware you were aquatinted with Doctor Meade and his wife."

With a smile he shook his head. "Not personally, but I know the type. Thankfully, the old guard is a dying breed in many parts of Europe. By no means all, but every year more and more of the country doctors are retiring and being replaced by men with schooling, men who have a working knowledge of the strides medicine has made. Men who are real doctors and not misnamed butchers with their medical knowledge acquired on battlefields."

"Do you know a great deal when it comes to childbirth?"

"I do. Scarlett, let us establish something. Here in the states many, many doctors are jacks-of-all-trades. Most do not have an area of study to which they devote a special amount of care and time. Europe, France and England especially are actively different in that regard. You do have doctors who practice general medicine, as is the case in the states. But, medical students are encouraged to select an area in which they believe they might be able to make a contribution of worth. I myself studied obstetrics, are you familiar with the term?"

"No."

"Obstetrics come from the Latin word obstare, meaning to stand by. It is what the surgical specialty dealing with the care of a woman during pregnancy, childbirth and the period shortly after birth is called. Fewer and fewer women in Europe are using midwives. Women who have a history of difficult births are engaging surgeons to aid them in their deliveries."

"And you're that sort of doctor?"

"Yes. Scarlett, I have never lost a mother. Never."

"What about a baby?"

"Yes, I've lost a baby. Two, if I were to be absolutely honest. But, you know as well as I that some babies, no matter how wanted simply aren't meant to be."

"I know that."

"You do, don't you? I feel that I have pieces of a puzzle that tells a story laid out before me.. In order to see it clearly, I need what is missing. Would you like to fill in those last few pieces?"

"I lost a child. In Atlanta, three years ago."

"Scarlett, you have to understand, losing a child to a childhood disease or an accident isn't the same as a miscarriage. You have two healthy children and you've just told me that they were two fairly normal deliveries. Once you are fully recovered, you will, no doubt be able to conceive and carry a child with little or no difficulty."

Her face was ashen. She could not hope to escape now, there was nothing but the truth left. "I don't mean my daughter, I had another baby, a baby that I lost."

"You miscarried, were you in poor health?"

"No."

"Did you have any signs that your pregnancy wasn't progressing normally?"

"No." She looked away from his eyes that were so like piercing knives, her rampantly pounding heart echoed in her ears and she was amazed that he could not hear it.. "But I wouldn't have had anything like that because I didn't lose the baby because of my health or stress. I had an accident."

His eyes narrowed and his face darkened noticeably. He struggled to retain his composure, but lost the battle. "What sort of accident?" he said instantly.

The anger and disgust present in equal measures in his voice threw her and she began to babble, she tried to slow her words, but they came in a rush. "In the house in Atlanta, we have a huge front hall with a grand staircase, I lost my balan…"

He stood and ripped the glasses from his face. Headless of the contents of his pocket and the damage that might occur to the lenses, he shoved his spectacles into his pocket. "You, of all women are the last…"

"I know what you're thinking, but it wasn't like that," she cried, "I'm not like those women you were talking about, what happened to me was truly an accident. Nothing could have prevented my fall."

"And where was Captain Butler?" he asked with a grimace, ready to doubt any answer she gave.

"In his study," she lied, without thinking. She would be damned if the arrogant man before her tried to judge Rhett, to compare him with abusive bastards married to any of Doctor Cross's unfortunate patients.

"Just as I am a very good doctor Scarlett, you are a very poor liar."

Her lips were white with the force she was exerting to keep her mouth closed. Finally she shrugged delicately. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Fine, plead ignorance if you must. How far along were you when you had your," he spat the next words out as though they left a foul taste in his mouth, "accident."

"Three months," she said blandly, "maybe a little more, but only by a week or so. I," she lowered her chin and her body sagged with exhaustion. "The baby was conceived April 22nd. I lost it July 28th."

"You didn't just lose the baby you carried, did you?" His voice had lost the anger and disappointment. Now he was slowly forming her words into something in his head. The picture would paint Rhett the villain, she didn't doubt that for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was gentle. "No one could take a fall such as the one you are barely describing and survive without some sort of injuries, aside from the miscarriage, you were injured, were you not? Badly?"

"Yes."

"Would you care to elaborate on that yes?"

"I broke a rib, fractured several more. I dislocated my shoulder. It was wrenched from the socket, some bruises and swelling. Several cuts, but none left a scar."

"The miscarriage left a sort of scar though, didn't it?" When she paled before his eyes, the lack of color in her cheeks served to offer a direct contrast to the glowering anger in her eyes. He spoke quickly to cut off the angry words that were about to explode from her lips. "And that isn't my pretty way of alluding to the emotional scars it must have left. It wasn't your dunking in the Atlantic that has you doubtful when it comes to your ability to bear a child. Just what exactly is wrong?"

Color flooded her wan cheeks till she looked fevered.He was so nonchalant, so flippant that she found she no longer wanted his help. She had been so desperate to have someone to confide in that she'd nearly made a terrible mistake. She grabbed the cane leaning against her chair and attempted to rise, but he came around the table and placed his hand on her shoulder, forcing her to maintain her seat. "Let me alone," she hissed furiously, struggling ineffectively against his restraining palm.

"I most certainly will not. I can help you. If you'll only stop being so stubborn and ladylike. I understand you are a product of your upbringing, it must even embarrass you to hear a man, even one that is a doctor use words like pregnancy and delivery. You'd rather I use phrases like the family way or in a fix? Should I treat pregnancy as no better a condition than leprosy?" She struggled again to stand and he placed his other hand on her right shoulder, pinning her to her chair.

"Get your hands off me, if you don't I swear, I'll scream," she warned in a low, strong voice.

"Then do it," he taunted.

She stared at him, her green eyes burning with impotent rage before she blinked and dropped her head. "Turn me loose," she whispered, brokenly.

He complied and carefully, he lowered himself till he rested his weight on bended knee by her chair. "Scarlett, what is wrong with you, I am no mind reader, I can't begin to come to a conclusion without details, details only you can provide. I know it isn't easy to talk about such things, with a stranger which, essentially, I am. But, if I am to help you…"

"My times don't come as they should, they haven't since after the accident," she said softly, looking him in the eye. She expected to see disgust or the usual detachment he regarded her with when was officially treating her, but there was only kindness in his normally chilly blue eyes.

"At all?"

She swallowed hectically, her throat working visibly. "They come, just not as they should, I can't talk about this, not with you."

"You can, I assure you. This is a good start, but come now, don't turn cowardly on me now, do they come every month?"

"No."

"Every other month?"

"Sometimes longer between times. Sometimes as long as three months passes."

"But they come eventually?"

"Yes."

"Is there any pain before or even during?"

She could no longer hold back the words that were begging to spill from her lips. It was now or never; he was here and willing to listen. He didn't seem to sit in judgement of her for having not addressed this sooner. Instead he simply waited, patiently coaxing out each symptom, not exactly pressing her, but neither was he letting her retreat behind walls of embarrassment and modesty.

Scarlett caught his hand familiarly, ignoring the impropriety of her action and the words began to pour out in a torrent of emotion. "After I fell it took months before I started my courses again. It took four months, maybe five before I could walk up and down the stairs without feeling winded. It's been three years and I still don't think everything is as it was before. Some months they don't come at all or they're over in a day or two. I have cramps that nearly double me in two and sometimes I feel so weak I can scarcely force myself from my bed."

He nodded his head slowly as her words sank in, softly he inquired, "When the blood comes, it's dark isn't?"

She wrenched her hand back and buried her flushed face in her hands as she began to sob. He knew what was wrong, but his face was so grim, so final. As final as death. He offered no words of reassurance or dismissal. She knew then, she'd waited too long and it was too late. She wanted to flee from his pitying gaze, but there was no strength left in her now.

"Scarlett," he rested his hand on the crook of her arm. "Scarlett, please it is going to be alright, truly it is. I refuse to continue though if you won't stop crying. I am not adept at comforting a woman, I haven't much practice."

"How can any of this be alright?" she whispered.

He stood, wincing as the blood surged into his knees. Dragging a chair next to her's he sat. "When and if you do conceive, I will be with you every step of the way. I will see this through with you till the very end and I swear to you, no matter what, I will pour through every one of my books and consult every physician I know here in Charleston and abroad who has any skills that might be worth taking note of. I will attempt to bring both you and your baby through this."

Her eyes were red rimmed and soft with the remains of her early bout of tears. "Because of Rosemary?"

"In part," he admitted reluctantly, "I imagine your husband will be grateful and who knows how that gratitude might manifest itself. But, I find myself willing to help you because you remind me of someone very dear to me."

Doctor Cross did not strike her as an overly sentimental man, curiosity drove her to ask

"Who do I remind you of?"

"My sister, Virginia."

"She never married after…" She trailed off, suddenly embarrassed. He had been so understanding and she'd been about to bring up old scandals that were better left forgotten.

He smiled sadly. "No. Ginny would have made someone a wonderful wife and any child an excellent mother. I can think of no one who deserved a child more than Ginny did. She practically raised me after our mother died."

"Does she still live in Charleston? I don't recall ever seeing her."

"She went to Baltimore last year. She's staying with our cousin, Brandy. I wanted her to come home, I admit to being selfish in that respect. I miss the order she always brings to life. But she found that she likes it there so she is staying for the foreseeable future."

"What does she like so much about it, she's living among strangers."

Though he still faced her, his attention was fixed on some unseen view. "Ginny wrote me to say that she enjoys the anonymity of living among people she hasn't known since birth. No one judges her for past indiscretions or mistakes. She never wanted to come back here." He glanced at her, his face unreadable as he corrected himself, "She never wants to come back."

"That's what I like so much about Charleston. It's the first place in a long time that I've been able to live my life without wondering why I couldn't just be let alone to be myself. I have friends here, and not Yankees or carpetbaggers who I do business with, but women who are accepted, admired even."

He smiled. "Julia Ashley was extolling your virtues to me the other day when I stopped by Ashley House."

"Is anyone ill there?"

"Not at all. Miss Ashley will bury most of us, mark my words. I had gone over to Rose Vale, there were papers in the library that I wanted and I wondered if they'd survived the war."

"Did they?"

"They did indeed. The papers relate to my family history. I thought I shouldn't wait much long if I wanted them. The place is in deplorable condition, a giant funeral pyre. One day it will be nothing but ashes"

"You'll help me, when the time comes," she said, returning to their previous topic of conversation.

"You have my word."

"As a gentleman," she teased halfheartedly.

"Certainly not, you have my word as a Cross. When we give our word, it is our bond. No matter how long a promise takes to fulfill, we never forego a promise or go back on our word."

She offered him her hand and he took it, grasping it lightly, but securely in his own. Lifting it slowly, he pressed his lips to the back of it in a gesture more at home at the French Court than a piazza in South Carolina.

"Scarlett, I want you to be sure though, is any baby worth the risk?"

"Any baby?" she asked softly. "No. I wouldn't risk this for just anyone's child. My baby, Rhett's and mine is worth any risk. It isn't out of a sense of obligation, because I am Rhett's wife and I feel I owe him a child. I belong to Rhett in a way that I've never belonged to another person, can you understand what that's like?"

"Yes. I know you can't believe it, but that is how I feel about Rosemary. I am not a naturally warm man Scarlett, nor an overly passionate one when it comes to romance and courting, but she takes me as I am and wants nothing more from me than who I already am."

"I'm so sorry," she offered, sincerity evident in her voice.

"So am I. If I could have chosen where to give my heart, I would have never picked a Butler, but I wasn't free to use good common sense, not when it comes to how I feel for Rosemary."

"Will you speak with Rhett?"

"Yes. I will. I was wrong to try and bring you into this. I'll fight my own battle, I doubt I'll win, but I'll fight it none the less."

She clenched her jaw slightly in an attempt to delicately conceal a yawn. "I'm exhausted."

He stood and offered her his hand, helping her rise from her seat. Taking her arm he escorted her to the doors leading to her bedroom. "Rest, do you hear me? If you're serious about a child, you'll take things slow and learn to pace yourself. Good-bye Scarlett. If you need me, just send Independence for me."

"Who?" asked Scarlett, before it came to her. "Oh, you mean Penny. I'd forgotten for a moment that her real name is Independence. How do you know it?"

"Tia, my housekeeper, is her cousin. Those two are always in my kitchen whipping up some foul smelling root and mud-based concoction to dose their fellow man with. As I doctor I've warned them of the dangers of misidentifying herbs and roots, but my words fall on deaf ears."

"I can't see someone as serious about medicine as you are allowing that to go on in your home."

"I would have put a stop to it except, where else are darkies to go for doctoring? In the old days the mistress of the plantation would have ministered to their ills or at least the midwife or a medicine woman. Now though, there are no colored doctors in Charleston and at least if the girls run their cottage industry from my kitchen, I can occasionally interject bits of useful advice without having the Klan try and string me up for treating blacks. But, now go inside and lie down. Even if you can't sleep, at least rest your body for awhile, it will do you some good in the long run, you'll see."

She gave him a brilliant smile. "Thank you, for listening."

"I'm glad you allowed me to. There is no need to ever be embarrassed when it comes to relating symptoms. Easy for me to say I know, but bear that in mind."

"I will. I promise."

"I'll stop by sometime next week, to check on you."

"Alright."

"You're going over to Dunmore Landing this weekend?"

"Yes, Friday afternoon I think."

"Is Rosemary going to go along?"

She frowned. "Why?"

"You know why."

She sighed. "No, just the children, Rhett, and I. Miss Eleanor will be here though so don't bother stopping by."

"All the better. I would like to speak with her. She is Rosemary's mother and in my eyes she has a right to know before Rosemary' brother, guardian or not."

"That's a very liberated view."

"I'm not a barbarian, Scarlett. Rosemary's mother has a right to know that I would like to court her daughter."

"She'll honor Rhett's wishes," cautioned Scarlett.

"You may be right, but perhaps she'll at least be willing to hear me out. If all of the women in Captain Butler's life speak well of me, well every little bit helps."

"You are incorrigible Doctor Cross."

He laughed before bowing politely. "So I've been told Scarlett Butler, so I've been told."

She could hear him chuckling quietly to himself as she closed the French door to her room. Poor Miss Eleanor, she thought guiltily. She has no idea what is coming. None what so ever, she thought as she snuggled her head into Rhett's pillow, relishing the traces of his familiar cologne.

Later, when she awoke, she would corner Rosemary and give her an ultimatum. Speak to Miss Eleanor or Scarlett would. She didn't look forward to that conversation, but she couldn't allow Doctor Cross to surprise Miss Eleanor like that, not after all Rhett's mother had done for her.

After a time Scarlett drifted off to a troubled sleep.


	90. Crossing a bridge

It was well after midnight before Jason Cross closed the book on his lap with a resounding thump. For nearly six hours, since he'd returned from paying calls, he had been pouring over volumes of medical texts and hunting through journals he'd brought back from his time abroad. He had written eighteen letters to former colleagues from La Maternatè in Paris and three acquaintances from France who were professors at Christs College in Oxford.

For an hour he had sat at his desk meticulously transcribing all of his notes on Scarlett Butler from short hand to French until his fingers and wrist ached from the strain of endless pages of writing. Reflecting upon those pages caused a surge of renewed determination to surge through him. He had exhausted nearly every avenue he could think of and it was his hope that one of the recipients of his letters would be able to offer assistance, or at the very least, some piece of sage advice..

After he had left Scarlett he had begun to pay calls on men who he considered his equals in the field of medicine, Doctor Stanley Lester and Doctor Jonathon Baradston. Both of them had apologetically told him that they'd had very little experience in obstructed and complicated deliveries, but Doctor Baradston was able to loan him a rare book by Doctor John Freind, Emmenlogia.

Doctor John Freind had been the private physician to Queen Caroline of England, an office that he held till his death in 1728, which Doctor Cross considered an impressive feat considering that in 1722 he had been suspected of favoring the cause of the exiled Stuarts, a crime for which he spent half of that year in the Tower. It was during that time that the Doctor, one of the acknowledged brightest minds in the history of English medicine, began his work on The History of Physic.

Jason already owned some of Doctor Freind's other works including Prelectiones Chimicae and The History of Physic. What he had not been able to find a copy of was Emmenlogia, one of the most difficult volumes of his work to obtain in the states.

Damn Anthony Comstock's ideas of what might be "obscene, or lascivious," thought Jason, with an arrogant sneer. Ever since the passage of the Comstock Laws last March it had slowly, but surely become progressively more and more difficult to obtain various medical texts in the United States.

He'd already heard from an acquaintance that the previous fall four different anatomy textbooks were prohibited from being sent to medical students by the United States Postal Service. He feared that soon it would be a crime to own books on obstetrics. His eyes fell on the shelf that contained over forty different texts on obstetrics and women's health.

In it's current suppressive state, the United States was on it's way to becoming a medical backwater when compared to Europe.

He knew physicians that had gone abroad, to work in Paris, London, and Vienna. Europe was fast becoming the epicenter for developments in medicine. For a time after his return to the states he had contemplated going back to France or possibly England, but in the end the pleading of his sister had won out.

When Jason Cross had first returned, he had decided to make his home in Charleston instead of in or near Baltimore where his sister had been staying. At first, there had been some difficulty in building his fledgling practice. The people of Charleston had been suspicious of a young doctor who had received the bulk of his training in France. There was also the stain on his family name to be dealt with. Having a father who insisted on christening him Jason Richard Cross had not aided matters. Ginny told him that their mother, Adele, had begged her husband to name their newborn anything else besides Jason. She had asked him to break with the tradition of naming the Cross heir Jason, but he had refused.

Going by the same name his elder brother had borne would have only served to remind people of the past, so he resorted to being known as Doctor Cross. He sought out no close ties, no friendships and the only Cross relations in the immediate area were the Dea's, and after how Philip had turned on the first Jason at the infamous duel, he wanted nothing to do with the Dea's. There were times when months had passed without him hearing his first name spoken aloud. It had only been within the last four months that his Christian name was once again used to address him.

Hearing his name, the name that had once been his dead brother's name, on Rhett Butler's lips two weeks ago had driven him to a rage that even now still simmered below the surface. Exerting a huge amount of personal control, he restrained himself from throwing a punch at Captain Butler that first night when he had come to first treat Scarlett.

Forcing himself to push thoughts of Captain Butler from his mind, he picked up the latest letter from Doctor Blackwell. Scanning it's contents one last time, he consigned it to the fire. Lizzie had made that request of him long ago, that her letters be burnt least they fall into the wrong hands and be used in the press to misquote her and malign the next up and coming crop of female doctors.

Female doctors, he smiled crookedly. Who would have thought such a thing possible a few years ago? Elizabeth Blackwell had thought so, he supposed. Lizzie was the first women to be accredited by a medical school as an M.D. A brilliant gynecologist, she had lectured twice at the Université de Montpellier when he was a student. Interested in obstetrics, he had approached her after the lecture. From that chance meeting, a correspondence has sprung up between the two.

Thank god for Lizzie Blackwell and her sister, Emily. The Blackwell sisters had been generosity itself over the last year, Lizzie especially, sending him any books he asked for from London and further abroad.

_Europe likes to hear of such things. It confirms the deep-seated conviction of the Old World that America is a provincial place, a second-rate country-town civilization after all_, wrote Elizabeth Blackwell from the London School of Medicine for Women in her last letter to him the month before. Her health was on the decline, he'd heard, and so she was pushing herself, trying to establish the school on firm ground in case of her untimely passing.

Lizzie Blackwell had written him repeatedly begging, in her elegant patrician way, practically ordering him to come and join her and work with her to further the training of specialists in England. She told him that he was attempting to minister to savages, as she had once done and the sooner he saw America for what it was and returned to the comforting bosom of Europe, the happier he'd be. England fascinated him and as he had no qualms about training women as doctors, her offer was a tempting one.

Her younger sister, Emily, on the other hand had repeatedly tried to lure him to New York City, promising him a position of great importance at the Women's Medical College that she and her sister had founded. Emily Blackwell was in fact Doctor Emily Blackwell, dean of said college as well as a professor of obstetrics.

He sighed, turned up the flame of the lamp on his desk and took out a piece of stationary. Emily Blackwell would be a font of information about cases such as Scarlett's. He outlined his case and asked if she might consider making the journey from New York to Charleston to consult with him. Emily was a rabid coinsure of dire cases and Scarlett's circumstances might be just dramatic enough to convince her to make the trip. He would send her letter first thing in the morning with his request for several books from Harvard's library. Emily was close friends with the curate there and no doubt, would be able to procure him the volumes he required.

He had written a lengthy letter to Doctor Leif Ricad in Austria, a confidant from his days with the French royal family. Leif was, in theory, an expert in obstetrics and gynecology, but in reality he was a talented abortionist. Even now he was private physician to Franz Joseph, serving in every capacity. The Emperor was an avid collector of young actresses, but not illegitimate children. Personally, Jason found Leif to be a haphazard doctor, but on the other hand he was of Jason Cross's mind, there should be no moral impediment when it came to practicing medicine. When one allows God to dictate courses of treatment or ethics in medicine, a doctor ceases to be a doctor and instead becomes a faith healer.

With a bleary eye, he glanced at the mantle clock. 2 a.m. He had just devoted the last ten hours to Scarlett Butler. If he closed his eyes in his currant state of exhaustion he was sure to awake in the morning to find himself slumped forward in his desk chair. He opted to content himself with picturing her in his mind's eye, with eyes wide open.

She was a charming woman. Pretty, opinionated, and brash. But she was also demure and womanly, able to tilt those intriguing slanted green eyes upward and convince any man that he was the cleverest and most brilliant example of the creature called man to ever live.

He had promised to bring her child into the world if he could. Her child, but in the veins of that child would course the blood of Rhett Butler. The bastard who'd cost his sister everything she had deserved. Respect from their father, a husband, and a child to love. True he had benefited from her spinster state, she had lavished all the love in her generous heart on him with a devotion that still moved him as a grown man.

There was nothing more he could achieve by wearing himself down. Huffing out the lamp on his desk, Jason Cross made his way by touch upstairs.


	91. Halo

In Jason Cross's spartan bedroom there were few knickknacks to connect him to any particular time or place in his life. He had attended school up North and lived in Europe for several years, but there were none of the trappings so many Americans brought back to display in their homes to prove that they'd made a pilgrimage to the bastion of culture and taste that was Continental Europe.

Aside from the decidedly practical furnishings, the only ornament in the room was a heavy, ornately framed crayon of his sister and brother in their early teens. Jason was standing, with his hand resting on Virginia's shoulder in a proprietary manner. She had always spoken with such love and regard when she talked with him about the elder Jason. He had always secretly wondered if her stories of the first Jason were completely colored by girlish admiration or, if he was in fact, vested with the numerous virtues she had attributed to him.

She had told him, with an air of regret, that he had warned her away from the headstrong Butler heir, telling her that Rhett Butler was nothing more than a tainted cur, descended from pirates and treacherous whores. He had been Ginny's champion when they were young, her playmate and confidante. He had been her god and guide in all things expect that one instance. He had always forewarned her that he had her best interests at heart and nothing bad could befall her if she listened to him.

With tears shimmering in her Mediterranean green-turquoise eyes, Virginia had wept as she told him that if only she had obeyed her brother when it came to ignoring Rhett Butler when he sought her out for special attentions, she would have never been disgraced. After that admission, she began to cry silently, her body shaking in abject misery, as she made the connection for the first time, instead of the hundredth, that if Jason hadn't felt the need to avenge her fall from grace, he would have never been murdered.

Thinking of his sister twisted his heart painfully. She had spent her life regretting what should have been a simple afternoon jaunt. If she had politely told Rhett Butler "no" instead of "yes," she would have changed the fate of nearly a dozen people, himself included. For, had it not been for his elder brother's untimely demise, he would have not been conceived to carry on the Cross line. Ginny would have, no doubt, married one of the sons of the aristocracy of Charleston society, the first Jason would have married a debutante of the first stair. No doubt his mother would not have succumb to the various aliments that had plagued her after his birth. That one "yes" had changed the direction of so many lives.

Currently there was another "yes" on his mind, the one he hoped to receive from Rosemary Butler. There was little doubt in his mind that somehow, some way, he would find a way around the formidable Butler braggadocio. In time, he would find a way to court Rosemary and do it openly. Rosemary had asked him if Ginny would like the idea of him marrying a Butler, he reflected, as he climbed into bed. Of course she would object, but she would do it silently. Aloud, she would lend him nothing but her unwavering support. Ginny had always been his champion, even when it cost her dearly.

Closing his eyes, his breathing soon became steady and relaxed; a direct contrast to his dreams.

_It was his ninth birthday, or rather, the week before his ninth birthday. He had returned home from boarding school that week and Virginia had been ecstatic to be reunited with him. He could nearly feel the warm embrace she had caught him up in as he descended from the carriage. _

"_Oh" she exclaimed joyously," you're home, dearest. We'll have the best summer, you'll see," she had told him, as she led him into the house. _

"_What will we do, Ginny?" he asked eagerly, every bit as pleased to see her as she was to see him._

"_For a start, your birthday is next week. We'll have a party, I'm going to speak to father about it after supper, we could invite some children your own age. It would make me so happy to see you move in the right circles, among boys equal in birth to you." She smiled gaily, "Well, not your equals exactly, after all you are a Cross dearest and there's hardly anyone in all of South Carolina that has blood equal to ours."_

_She was so animated that it tore at him to have to caution her. "Ginny, maybe a party isn't such a good idea. I don't think father would allow it."_

_There was, in her eyes, a look of grim determination that he had never before seen. Even at the age of nearly ten, he could see that there was something more at stake then a birthday party, but he had no idea what it could be. "Nonsense. I'll ask tonight and you'll see."_

_He watched her as she smiled brightly and gathered her voile skirts in her hand as she ascended the stairs. "Come along darling, I've been wanting to show you something, it's up in my room."_

With a strangled cry, he sat up, wrenching his mind away from the direction the dream was bound to take. He could not close his eyes again, he dare not. If he did, he would eventually fall back into a troubled sleep. In his dreams or more accurately nightmares, he would no doubt find himself at Rose Vale once more.

He would see them as they had been then; a small boy, following his sister, climbing the stairs carefully, not running or taking them two at a time as many small boys would.

Sighing, he folded his hands behind his head and reclined into the pillows. He was caught in the grips of memory. The temptation to go down to the cabinet in his office was immense, but he fought back the urge. The sleep that could be doled out from the small, cobalt blue bottle that was shoved to the back of the bottom most shelf wasn't worth the cost.

He had discovered chloral hydrate while an undergraduate at Harvard. A young man with whom he shared the common room of the suite he was assigned had introduced him to the maverls of chloral hydrate. When the nightmares would wake him, he would spend the rest of the night hunched over his desk, preparing for the next days classses. But, by the time class began, he was half asleep, nearly slumped over, in his chair during lecture.

This continued for much of his first month and a half at Harvard, until Winslow Harrision took him aside and explained that if he was catious about not becoming dependent on it every night to sleep, chloral hydrate would become a dear companion to a young, ambitious medical student.

It only took him three weeks to become addicted. He had finally been able to break free of the seductive bonds of the drug and since then he had kept that blue bottle with him to remind himself of just how easy it was to become seduced by an addiction. Some nights, years after the last time he had taken a drop, it called out to him. He never gave in to his need, turning away from it with an iron will. But, his defiance also came with a price. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't help but look back to that awful day over twenty-five years ago.

_The pair came to the small door at the end of the second floor that housed the stairwell that led to the third floor were Virginia's room was located. Virginia had told him, during a visit the year before last how she had come to sleep on the little used guest floor instead of on the second floor with the rest of the family._

Sitting across from him in cousin Brandy's parlor in Baltimore, the regal Virginia Cross bore little resemblance to the terrified, broken girl she had been at sixteen when she had gone on that fateful ride with the reckless Rhett Butler. Now she was a poised, elegant woman, still somehow youthful looking despite the way her ebony hair was shot with twists of pure silver. It looked as though someone had carefully dipped the tip of a paintbrush in a pot of silver paint and, with military precession, had painted several streaks of silver from Virginia's temples all the way to the ends of her hair.

_After her disgrace, their father had dragged her from her beautiful suite of rooms on the second floor and with previously unknown passion hurled her at the door to the third floor stairwell. _

"_Whore," he'd screamed, heedless of the sharp ears of the house slaves. "You've shamed us all, you murdered your brother as sure as if you had shot him instead of your lover, I would banish you from this house but I've no doubt that you wouldn't shrink from shaming this family further by selling your body on a street corner in Charleston."_

Sitting in Brandy's parlor he asked her for the first time in their lives, "Was he truly your lover Virginia?"

"Oh Jason," she chided sadly, shaking her head, "How could you think that of me? No, he wasn't. Jason died thinking that I had given myself to a man like Rhett Butler, he wouldn't allow me to explain, neither would mother and father. They simply believed the worst of me. I though I would never have to speak of it again once they were all gone but, I couldn't bear to die and have you think the same."

The thought of her dying, leaving him alone in the world panicked him and he spoke quickly, an apology immediately on his lips. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound as though I doubted you. Virginia, how did you bear it all those years? Father hated you, truly he did, why didn't you leave? Brandy would have taken you in, or Regina Rae. How could you stay at Rose Vale knowing that father thought you little better than a whore? Especially when you knew the truth, that you were blameless?"

The room was still while he waited for her response; the only sounds aside from their breathing were the noise of some foot traffic on the relatively quiet street Brandy resided on. "For you darling, it was all for you. How could I leave you behind," her green eyes glowed with fury, "those fools, they named you Jason after…after him. What sort of people do that, name an innocent baby after a son dead less than a year before? All so that the stupid name would continue to pass on. If you have a son, I implore you, give him any other name, and break the chain."

"You give our parents too much credit for human feeling," he said dryly.

"I don't give either of them any credit. Our mother was a weak, vain woman who barely acknowledged Jason and I when we were little. As for father, my only regret is that despite what people think of me, I've lead a fairly blameless life so that when I die I will most likely not go to hell."

"You regret not going to hell?" asked Jason; a glint of amusement was present in his normally cool eyes.

"I do indeed," she replied, laughing. "If I did, I might get to see father pushing that giant boulder up a hill for the rest of eternity," she replied tartly.

Though not generally prone to instigating contact, he took her hands in his, marveling at how delicate they were. "Why didn't you leave Ginny, I think father might have given you money to start somewhere else, why did you stay? I could have survived without you, I can't bear to think that you stayed in that house just for me."

"I didn't tell you so you'd feel guilty. I told you so that you'd have the truth. The first time I saw you, I knew that you needed me, just as I needed you. In my entire life, you are all that I've loved. My older brother, I worshipped blindly and loved devoutly. But, as I grew older, I came to realize that he was terribly flawed, he fought a duel to protect me but what did that accomplish in the end? Instead of saving me from shame or hurt, he died and left me all alone."

She had smiled then and gently drawing her hands from his, she placed a hand on his cheek. "I never had any children, dearest. I will never hold a baby in my arms and have it's fate rest entirely in my hands. Father allowed me to raise you so that he didn't have to after mother died, but he never, not for one second, let me forget that if I made even the tiny misstep you would be taken from my care and I would have no recourse."

He loved her, but it was all too much. He stood suddenly, pacing the room with the fever of a caged cat. "I wish there were something I could do." An idea came to him, and he spoke carefully, treading the previously unexplored ground lightly "Have you ever thought of taking in a foundling? A close friend has a sister who runs a hospital for women and children in New York. She's told me that they find children abandoned in the building's vestibule constantly. Perhaps…"

Virginia's face paled at the suggestion. "Jason, no," she said, shaking her head. "None of those children could be the one that I wanted. I wanted a baby of my own, one that would look like me, one that meant something to me. The child of a stranger wouldn't mean a thing to me, not deep down where it matters. A child should be brought into existence because its mother could not imagine her life without it."

He shrugged, "As you wish," he said, allowing the topic to be put to rest.

He tossed and turned in his bed, the sheets tangling around his body, ensnarling his torso. Sitting up in bed, he ran his hands back through his hair. Despite the best of his intentions he must have fallen back to sleep again. With a sigh, he rose. Rummaging through his bedside table, he found a battered flask with a few inches of bourbon remaining. He couldn't go back to bed, if he was going to face the past, he would do it wide-awake and on his terms.

Taking a long swallow, he allowed his mind to wander back.

_He could remember hiding behind the blue velvet settee in his father's study to eavesdrop on the discussion about his party. He loved hiding and over hearing small bits of gossip, but what happened next soured him on eavesdropping for years to come... _

_His sister started gently, fearful of the slightest misstep. "Father, it's Jason's birthday next week, I thought I might…"_

_Their father stood abruptly, his hands slapping down on his desk startling her into silence. "Don't be a ninny, my son's birthday is in the fall."_

_Knowing his sister as he did, he didn't have to be able to see her to know she was twisting a piece of her skirt nervously, dreading the inevitable reference she was going to have make to their long dead elder brother. _

"_Father," she corrected softly, "that was the other Jason, his birthday was the 15__th__ of October. Dearest's birthday is next week, on Friday. He'll be nine."_

_Their father grunted dismissively. "I know how old my son is."_

"_I thought perhaps we might have a small party, we could invite the Maxwell children and…,"_

"_Out of the question," he thundered._

"_But father…"_

"_Don't you dare presume to challenge me. You think I don't know what your motivation is in planning a 'small party'? Do you honestly think that people have forgotten? You are an idiot, but even you couldn't be so dense as to believe that people have forgotten, that no one still looks at you and sees a loose moraled slut."_

"_Father," she protested, "I only,"_

"_Shut your mouth," he growled dangerously, when he was certain she would not speak out of turn again he grimaced darkly, "I know you madam, you think that enough time has passed, that people have forgotten that you played whore to that bastard. You think to set yourself up as the mistress of Rose Vale, greeting guests at the door as though you weren't the shame of this family. Just because that meddling old bitch Julia Ashley allows you to sit in her parlor during the meetings for her damned causes doesn't erase your past. You are a whore and a murderess. I swore when they brought home my son's body that I would never allow you to forget that and as long as I am alive, you won't."_

_Jason dared to peep out from behind the sofa, his sister was white and trembled lightly, but she tried once more to convince their father. "I'm sorry, more than I can say for all the ill I've caused, but please don't punish Jason for my sins. Won't you let him have a party? I could plan everything and then I'll stay in my room. No one will have to see me."_

"_They'll know you're here though." He snorted dismissively. "It's a ridiculous idea, with you as the hostess, no decent, God fearing person would allow their child to step foot in to this house."_

_Ginny stood to face her father. "No one cares anymore about what I did" she cried, exasperation settling into her voice, " it happened ten years ago, won't you reconsider…"_

_She was so caught up in anger and annoyance that she was blind to the enraged hatred on her father's face. Jason saw the blow coming and though he wanted to warn his sister, the words stuck in his throat._

_With a sickening cry of shock and pain, Ginny fell to her knees, cradling the side of her face. Blood ran from her nose and seeped though her clasped fingers as she desperately attempted to back away from her father. He backed her against the library table next to the sofa. _

_Jason scrambled frantically, trying to keep himself concealed from sight. But she saw him, her green eyes widening with horror. She shook her head slightly, cautioning him that no matter what he saw or heard, he had to stay hidden._

_The floor shuddered under his father's weight as he closed the space between them, Jason drew his knees up under his chin praying desperately that a hole would open up in the ground and swallow his father, that he would clutch his chest and fall down dead, any catastrophe would be welcome if it would spare Ginny yet another beating._

_Glancing one last time at Jason, she struggled to her feet so his attention would not continue to be drawn toward the floor where Jason was. He struck her again, as soon as she stood upright, the thud of his loosely balled fist nearly drew him from her hiding place, but his sister's face turned slightly toward him. Her eye was swelling rapidly and her nose was already swollen, the taunt skin over it's bridge an angry purple and red. _

_He knew then that jumping to her defense would only cause her further pain. At nearly nine he knew that she would be the one to suffer at the hands of his father, not him. He was the Cross heir, the fifth Jason to be born on American soil. His sister, in his father's eyes, was nothing more that a weight around his neck, his disgraced and unmarriageable daughter. _

_Ginny clutched the edges of the library table, shaking slightly. The senior Cross leaned down till he was eye to eye with his daughter. He glanced down at the small splotches of splattered blood that dotted the floor. "Get this mess cleaned the hell up and then go to your room. Don't show your face until it's presentable again. Do you understand me?"_

_Her voice shook slightly. "Yes father."_

_Only after the door to the hall slammed shut, reverberating in it's frame for several seconds after his father's departure, did Jason crawl out from behind the sofa._

"_Oh Jason," she cried, falling to her knees and drawing him into her arms. "You mustn't ever do that again. If he'd seen you," she swallowed deeply, trying to reign her panic in, " promise me that you'll never hide in here again. Or anywhere that father is. Promise me so I won't have to worry." _

_He was not an overly demonstrative child, but he gently wound his arms around her neck before brushing a quick, self-conscious kiss on the unblemished side of her face. "I promise Ginny, I don't want you to worry."_

_She held him close before releasing him. She knew that he had never been one to seek out embraces and affection, though she wished that were different. But in a household such as theirs, how could it have been any different. She lavished love on him but, it was the only love he had ever known._

_Digging in his pockets, he withdrew a marble, a small hunk of white flaky slate that local boys used as chalk, and then a clean, but slightly ragged handkerchief. He offered it to his sister who took it gratefully._

"_You'll need new ones when you go back to school in the fall," she said lightly. "When I was a little girl, a great aunt of ours who lives in a convent in France used to send me the most beautiful white work linen handkerchiefs on my birthdays. She stopped after Jason died because father told her that I had been sent away. I think I am going to write her and ask if she might not send some for you. They were beautiful, her convent is known for their needlework."_

_He shrugged, "I always lose my handkerchiefs, besides I'm nearly a man, and a man doesn't use a frilly handkerchief."_

"_Well, never the less, I'll write her anyway. She was a dear woman and I was sorry when we stopped corresponding."_

"_I wish father wasn't so mean to you."_

"_I know, but he isn't ever going to forgive me. We have to make the best of a bad situation, dearest."_

_He nodded. "Someday, when father is dead, I am going to buy you a big town house on the battery and a carriage and a team. You'll have so much money that no one will dare look down on you and if they do…I'll punch them in the nose."_

"_I'd like white horses please," she said with a teasing smile. "But as for the punching, violence never solved anything. If you want to undermine an opponent, you must learn to out think them." She stood and dusted off her skirts. "I'm sorry about the party."_

"_It's alright, we could go on a picnic, just the two of us. Besides," he added bravely, "we always have more fun together than anyone else in the world. I don't need to have a party to have a nice birthday. I've never had a party before, but I've always had good birthdays."_

_Her face lit up, despite the bruises that marred her appearance, she was so beautiful that he smiled back shyly. "You're very sweet."_

"_But," he looked down at the still scattered contents of his pocket, "There'll still be a cake, won't there?"_

_She smiled sweetly, "The biggest cake in all of Charleston."_

He threw aside the flask, now long forgotten, and made his way downstairs until he reached the kitchen. Slipping out the back door, he took a great gasp of air into his tight chest. His sister had been so brave to endure all that she had at Rose Vale. She had been beaten and degraded, shamed and dismissed, treated as a social pariah.

Their father had always treated him as a valuable possession. Yet, despite his perceived importance he was treated with nothing more than a vague, occasional interest. He had no mammy and his mother was long dead. The house slaves were distant, kept in their place by their master's strict expectation. Once, their father had caught a newly purchased housemaid overly fraternizing with Ginny, describing to her the dresses the women had worn to last years Saint Cecilia ball. He had ordered her to be whipped and sent out to the rice fields, the ultimate fall from grace in the slave world. After that, Ginny had carefully discouraged the newer slaves from showing her anything that might be misconstrued as excessive kindness. She could not bear to be the cause of any further suffering.

His beautiful sister had been the only one in his life to love him, and in turn he loved her dearly as both a sister and as a surrogate mother. She had raised him, seen to his education, tended to his needs as a boy and later as a young medical student abroad in France.

Ginny was a warm, beautiful, and giving. She was a lady, but beneath her lady-like exterior there was a women of such bravery and strength that it infuriated him to think about how unfair life truly was. For his sins, Rhett Butler had been simply tossed out to fend for himself. From there he had built a fortune and married a beautiful woman who was desperate to give him a child.

But Ginny…Ginny had been shamed, beaten, and left to end her days as an old maid.

Everything that had happened to her could be traced to one person, Rhett Butler. There were times when he wanted nothing more to call him out. Even if Butler managed to kill him just as he had the first Jason, it would be worth it for the opportunity to see Butler's blood drain out of his corpse.

What had possessed him to agree to continue as Scarlett's physician? He abhorred her husband, wished him dead, yet he had promised to help her. What could have possessed him? He would have given anything in the world to turn his back on her request, to leave her in the hands of another physician, but how could he?

The hearth roses Ginny had planted in the rich soil at the base of the chimmeny were in bloom. Ideally he snapped one of the nearly spent blooms from the bush She was a so like Ginny; with her dark hair and expressive emerald eyes. She was like Ginny in ways that went further than a passing physical resemblance. She was brave and headstrong. She was loyal to those she loved and an excellent mother.

That was why he was willing to help her. She wanted a child, just as Ginny always had. He knew only too well what wanting a child could do to a woman. His sister would go to her grave regretting not having a child that belonged completely to her. Scarlett Butler, without his help, would go to her grave attempting to have a child.

Could he walk away and leave her to whatever fate held in store for her? Would he know a twinge of regret when the Butler house was draped in black crepe and those two kind, well mannered children were left to Rhett Butler to raise?

As a man, he was divided in his loyalties. He despised Rhett Butler; saw him as the root of all of Ginny's suffering and the ruin of his family. But, as a doctor, there was no other course. A patient had asked him for help, to deny her request would be to violate the Oath he had taken at the end of his medical training, the night before his graduation from Medical School.

At Harvard, upon graduation, he had not taken the oath, wishing to wait till after he finished his education. He had wanted to be sure that going into practice rather than research was right for him, As a research physician, the same standards to the treatment of patients did not apply. A research patient was one assumed to die. There was nothing even the most competent doctor could do for such a case, nothing that is, except learn.

When he had left the service of the Emperor, the Empress had given him a gift. A small bronze coin was becoming a popular gift in Europe's medical community. On one side was a profile of Hippocrates. On the other, in Latin, was the motto primum non nocere. "First do no harm."

Scarlett Butler was a dangerous mix of a treatable patient and a research patient. In university, as a medical student, one of the principal precepts all students are taught is one must consider the possible harm that any intervention might cause. 'First, do no harm' was an emerging idea that was leading to a great deal of conflict amoung the medical community. Was it better to take the risk and intervene in the natural order or treat a patient medically and allow fate to direct the course of recovery?

There were no easy answers to be found. Except in the oath itself. There lie the answers to the question at hand. He'd taken his oath in French, but the English came to him easily. It was the last few lines of the Hippocratic Oath that seemed to completely sum up the situation.

In every house where I come I will enter only for the good of my patients, keeping myself far from all intentional ill-doing and all seduction and especially from the pleasures of love, be they free or slaves.

I will apply dietetic measures for the benefit of the sick according to my ability and judgment. First, do no harm.

Jason Cross directed his eyes skyward. The stars still glittered above him, but the black velvet sky was slowly giving way to the coming dawn. He had slept less than two hours. It would have been simple to simply leave a note for Tia asking her to not raise the shades in his office. He then could climb back into his bed and doze off for several hours, at least. But he had a call to pay at Saint Ursula's convent that could not be put off.


	92. Tides of Men

**_I ... have to constantly balance "being a writer" with being a wife and mother. It's a matter of putting two different things first, simultaneously. - Madeleine L'Engle_** Cassie was in the hospital again and I found for the first time in a long time the words would not come. When they finally did, I found that I was not happy with them, below please find what was my best effort._..**People have writer's block not because they can't write, but because they despair of writing eloquently. - Anna Quindlen**_

****

**_I promise, chapter next week. Thank you all for your patience_**

It was nearly three o'clock before they finally left for the launch. Despite her denials of being the least bit nervous about traveling over to the Landing by boat, Scarlett's relaxed demeanor did not hide the anxiety bubbling just below the surface. It soon became apparent to Rhett that she was procrastinating in an attempt to delay their departure.

First, she wanted Ella to try on all of her newly arrived finery. She insisted on Wade doing the same with the things that Rhett's tailor had delivered earlier that day. When the children had finished, Rhett had suggested they leave for the harbor, but Scarlett had wanted to wait for Rosemary to return just to make absolutely sure that she wouldn't accompany them.

Finally, at a quarter after two, Rhett had told Penny to take the children and Toby out to the carriage he'd borrowed from Sally Brewton. Once they were outside, he went into the parlor and without preamble, swung Scarlett up into his arms.

"Rhett Butler, put me down this instant," she demanded.

"Scarlett, if we don't leave now the tide is going to come in, that will make the trip over rougher than it will be if we leave by three. I promise you, we'll be across before you know it. There isn't anything to fear."

She bristled. "I am not afraid, don't be ridiculous. Now, put me down, please," she added sweetly, "You won't be able to open the door with your hands full."

"I will," he promised, as he used his elbow to manipulate the front door handle, "once we get to the carriage."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Rattling noisily across the crushed lime stone roadbed, the carriage came to a stop before the planking leading down to the Charleston Harbor docks. Despite Scarlett's admonishment to wait, the children were out of the carriage the instant it rolled to a stop. Without waiting for her mistress's instructions, Penny quickly climbed down to keep a close watch over her two young charges.

Rhett was already out of the carriage and extending a helping hand to Scarlett when she placed her hand on his forearm, "Please, call them back, before they get into trouble," she implored.

Helping her down, he glanced in the direction the children had gone. They were leaning on a section of railing with Penny a few steps behind them. "Penny is with them, let them explore a little."

"You think I am being over protective, don't you."

"Yes, but with the best possible intentions," he answered honestly.

A brisk, salt scented breeze lifted the brim of Scarlett's straw pancake hat, nearly sweeping it from her head. The crimson ribbons adorning it danced about her face and shoulders. Keeping a firm grasp on it, she scolded Rhett lightly. "I'll never be able to keep this on my head out on the water. I wish you hadn't acted so silly when we left the house, I could have sent Penny upstairs for a hat pin."

"Once we're aboard, take it off, there isn't anyone on the launch who'd tell."

"Fiddle dee dee Rhett Butler, and when I'm as red as a strawberry from being out in the sun for nearly an hour and banned from all of the ladies societies in Charleston because of my unladylike behavior, then what?"

He grinned roguishly, "Then I will have you all to myself, a state of affairs I could easily embrace."

"You'd grow tired of me after a while," she observed candidly.

Oblivious to the presence of everyone else on the docks except Scarlett, he reached out and playfully tweaked one of the crimson ribbons that trailed down her back. "I'd be down right exhausted if I had you all to myself."

It took several seconds for his words to sink in and once they did, a flush stained her cheeks. "You, Captain Rhett Butler, are what Mammy would've called fresh."

"Would you have me any other way?"

She smiled sweetly at him, the re-appearance of Penny and the children cutting short any response she may or may not have been preparing.

Turning her attention to them, a soft look of maternal delight came into Scarlett's radiant eyes. She had spent a lifetime pushing her children and their care off on to anyone who would accept the responsibility. Now, she only wanted to spend time with them and revel in their adoration.

The children stood in direct contrast to one another. Ella was babbling on excitedly about one thing or another, wide eyed with amazement at the size of some of the ships that dotted the harbor. Wade, on the other hand, was pensive and seemed slightly withdrawn into a world all his own. Scarlett could not see any particular reason for such peculiar behavior. She was about to question him when a voice called out across the teeming mass of humanity populating the dock.

"Captain Butler, over here," called a tall, handsome black man from the deck of a small craft.

Rhett lifted his hand in salutation. "That's Jermore," he explained. "He owns several of the launches. I've reserved one of them for our trip over. I thought you might be more comfortable if it was just us."

Scarlett tilted her head slightly as she lifted her eyes to study his handsome face. Rhett had repeatedly told her that he loved her over the course of the last few weeks and while she didn't doubt the sincerity of his words, there was a poignant, heart stirring joy in being shown through small acts of consideration that her happiness and security mattered to him.

Walking sedately, in deference to Scarlett's slightly awkward gait, the family made their way to the slip. Ella eagerly clambered over the gangplank, but Wade hung back, partially blocking Scarlett and Rhett's way.

"Mother, it isn't very steady," he observed.

"I'll carry you across Scarlett," said Rhett. She flinched, but allowed him to sweep her up. Handing her cane to Wade, she tried to keep her face neutral despite the panic she felt. There was a faint, shallow creak as Rhett stepped onto the plank. The water beneath them was dark, surging like a beast waiting to devour her.

She could still feel the chill in her bones from the icy water they had nearly drowned in. If she lived to be a hundred, she could go without ever setting foot on a sailboat ever again. The launches, integral to the Landing, those she'd have to eventually come to terms with. Eventually, she thought grimly, being the key word.

As Rhett carried her across the gangplank; he could feel her trembling faintly in his arms. A wry smile quirked one side of his mouth upward as he caught himself in the midst of muttering yet another silent prayer. Lately, he found himself asking favors of God. It was hard to call these brief sessions prayer, but he supposed, that was exactly what they were.

Once on board, he carefully placed her back on her feet, wrapping his arm around her tiny waist. Wade gave her back her cane and she clutched it tightly; gradually her knuckles paled until they were white. She tried to force a smile to her lips, but all that she could manage was a taunt, twisted sort of grimace.

The man who had called out to Rhett gestured sharply and two of the crewmembers drew in the planking and cast off. As the crew began to go about their routine tasks Rhett brought her slightly forward.

"Jermore, good afternoon. Thank you for waiting for us, we were running behind for much of the day," said Rhett, "Have you met my wife before?"

Jermore bowed elegantly. "Welcome aboard Missus Butler, I have met you before, in December. I do not know if you remember me from the last time you went over to the Landing. My name is Jermore." Dropping a barely noticeable wink, he continued on, "The water has been very calm today so I think we will be over in no more than thirty minutes."

His eyes twinkled merrily. They were one of the strangest pair of eyes she'd ever seen, nearly the color of a tarnished, brass coin and set high in his face. In another man, it would have detracted from his overall attractiveness, but in Jermore's case, it only served to make his face seem well shaped and distinctly noble. He did not sound like a darkie, in fact, the rich and deep baritone of his voice and the way he pronounced his words made him sound like a white man.

It surprised her a little to notice so much about a colored man, but it would be hard not to notice in Jermore's case. She wondered if Penny had noticed how nice looking Jermore was. Not wanting to admit to her curiosity, from the corner of her eye she caught sight of the shy, interested look on Penny's face. If the expression on Jermore's own face whenever he looked in Penny's general direction was any indication, the interest was more than mutual.

The boat gave a small lurch as the paddle began to push them forward at a slightly increased speed. Scarlett gave a small gasp drawing an immediate, reassuring smile from Jermore.

"That is natural Missus Butler. The rest of the trip will be smooth now I think."

Scarlett offered him a reluctant smile. "Is it that obvious?"

"I am sorry but I do not understand." He smiled, his white teeth a direct contrast to his black skin. "Telling people of the conditions on the water, that is how I greet all of the passengers that come aboard my boats."

She smiled then, knowing his obvious falsehood for what it really was, an attempt to put her at ease. "I thought that my being nervous might be obvious."

"You have nothing to be nervous about Missus Butler." His deep voice was calming, with a reassuring tone that reminding her of Uncle Peter. A sudden bolt of homesickness cut through her. She longed to see Aunt Pitty, Uncle Peter, even Henry Hamilton again. Had it already been six months since she'd left Atlanta or since she set on the red clay of Tara?

Realizing that the small party was waiting for her to speak she smiled apologetically. "That's nice to hear."

Leaning forward, he spoke in a low, conspiring voice, "Did you know that on a launch, the benches behind the cabin is the place to sit when one wishes a smooth ride? I had a clean tarp put down so that your clothing would not be dirtied. If I could suggest, these seats are a good place for you to sit. By the time you have settled, the trip will nearly be at an end."

Wade gallantly offered his arm to Scarlett. "May I escort you to your seat madam," he asked, with a bashful grin.

She took his arm, leaning heavily on the cane. "Ella," she called, once settled on the bench, "Come and sit with me."

Having never been on a boat in her life, Ella's attention was caught by so many different things that she missed her mother's summons.

"You're mother is calling you," said Rhett gently.

She peeped up shyly at Rhett. "Do I have to Dadd..I mean Uncle Rhett." She blushed vividly to the very roots of her curly ginger hair.

"Ella," begun Rhett gently, but the little girl had already darted over to her mother's side.

It wasn't the first time in the last few days that Ella had nearly called him daddy. Before her sister had died, Ella had called him daddy several times. He had thought that she was preparing to call him that in lieu of Uncle Rhett, but before she had had a chance to decide whether or not to honor him with the title of 'Daddy', Bonnie had died and he had proved himself unworthy of such a great honor.

Now, it seemed that Ella was once more inching her way toward calling him her daddy and he found himself hoping that in spite of all she'd suffered, which had been in no small part a direct result of his abandonment of his family, she might find it possible to call him daddy again. With Wade it was somehow different, he was too much a Hamilton to just haphazardly decide to call any other man, besides the late Charles Hamilton, father. Nor would he ever want the boy to feel forced or somehow coerced into that sort of decision.

But Ella had no real family except Scarlett, her aunts, and her cousins. There had been no one to instill stories of Frank in her head and heart. And so, that valuable property was empty. A part of his heart longed to hear himself referred to once more as Daddy. Uncle Rhett had been fine and well in the beginning, but after helping raise her from a baby, he had grown greedy. He wanted to rekindle the closeness they had once shared.

Jermore joined Rhett, leaning casually against the waist high railing. The two men stood, side by side, watching Charleston's bustling port grow smaller as the boat made it's way down the Ashley River just as they had the previous week. The tense cast to Rhett's jaw, and the heavy pensive air were gone now, as though they'd never been. Occasionally he glanced toward the back of the ship to check on his family. Scarlett was smiling at something Wade was telling her while Ella struggled to keep back a brewing fit of the giggles.

To the uninformed observer they were the perfect family, happy without any previous disappointments or tragedies. But Jermore knew at least something of the previous situation from bits and pieces garnered from conversations with Captain Butler over the course of the season while on their way to the Landing.

They were known to each other through a shared childhood at Dunmore Landing, though he did not consider them anything more than casual acquaintances because of the obvious differences in both color and social standing. Still, they both had occasionally snuck away from their respective duties to meet at the shoreline to fish and swim, as boys of any color and creed will be wont to do. Both boys had been alone and in that loneliness they had gravitated toward one another when the opportunity presented itself.

They had been among a small minority at Dunmore Landing. Steven Butler, as a rule, did not allow the children of his slaves to remain on the grounds after they turned five. He felt children to be a distraction and in accordance with that belief he chose to sell them in Charleston to dealers who, in turn would bring them to auction. Jermore's mother had often been called on to brew abortifacient for an expectant mother who would rather their babes died in the womb than be wrenched from their arms and sold.

As they had grown older, Rhett had taken on more and more of the responsibilities of a young man being groomed to run one of the largest rice plantations in the Carolinas and Jermore had turned sixteen and been freed by Steven Butler.

For several years he had worked on the docks at Ashley Plantation as foreman. Miss Ashley was a fair employer and never forgot, nor let others forget that he was a freed black and not a slave. One overseer had slashed him across the back of his neck with a riding crop and Miss Ashley had nearly broken the man's nose when she paid his blow back with one of her own. After that, working at Ashley Plantation had been a pleasurable experience. Once the war ended his mother had been able to apply her midwife and herbal skills and they had moved to a modest house in Charleston. With his savings and hers, he acquired the first of his three boats. Through careful management and wise investments with his lawyer, he had gone from a half-breed slave to a man of some means.

Two years ago he had hired a tutor, just as the son's of the wealthy plantation owners had once done, to teach him how to read, cipher, and manage his businesses. His mother approved of his bettering himself even if other blacks of his acquaintance had not. They considered him an Uncle Tom, a black man who had forgotten his birthright, such as it was, and was instead reaching too high above his place in life.

"Penny for your thoughts," said Rhett, with a smile at the distant look in Jermore's eyes.

Jermore returned the smile with a careful shrug of his large, slightly bowed shoulders. "If you do not mind me saying so, you look happier than the last time you traveled with me."

"I suppose I am."

"Perhaps it is not too far fetched for me to continue to believe that one day my sons will brings your sons to the Landing."

"Perhaps not," admitted Rhett, remembering their conversation the previous week.

He glanced over to the bow where Penny stood. "I will try to find a wife as soon as possible so that I do not fall behind you."

Rhett laughed appreciatively at the good-humored barb before sobering slightly. "Jermore, your mother, what ever happened to her?"

"My mother is well, she returned to Tennessee a year ago. I bought her a large piece of land and she built a house on it. Two of her brothers are living there with her. She is well. The next time I see her, I will tell her you asked about her. She will like that."

"Your mother is a very special woman. She became a servant to stay with you. I always admired her, even before I precisely understood why. Tell me, did you ever hate my father for what he did to your mother; giving her no choice other than become a slave to stay with you?"

"Hate? No, no I never hated him. He is the reason my mother came to South Carolina. If I had not grown up on the river I would not be the captain of this fine boat. I own three boats, I will be buying a forth in the fall. You are a wise man Captain, surely you must suspect that I am a rich man; I bought my mother a beautiful piece of land that she built a beautiful house on. That might not have happened if my family had not had to come here. There is wisdom in all things; the things that are good hold us over for the times when things are bad. It is a constant tide in the affairs of men."

Rhett looked up sharply. "Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat. And we must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures."

The tall, black man smiled pleasantly. "Is money not an amazing thing? For some it buys power, for others vice; in my case, Shakespeare. There is so much in the plays that I do not understand, but things about tides…" His smile faded, "You know that my father died?"

"No." It must have been difficult, thought Rhett, to lose a father one loved and cared for. "My condolences. Keene was a fine man. When did you lose him?"

"Near the end of the war, he caught sick and then, one night my mother went to check on him and he was gone."

"I remember how much Sarah loved your father, it must have been very difficult for her."

"It was, but she does not doubt that she will see him again. She believes that he will meet her when the time comes and maybe she is right. She told me after he died that what was between them could not be cut loose by something as temporary as death. In my mother's eyes, death is just another place to be explored. For her, for her it is not the end of things, but the beginning."

Jermore looked up to gauge where they were in relation to the Landing. The private dock at the Landing was just visible now, jutting out into the water. With a slight bow, Jermore excused himself leaving Rhett to consider Jermore's mother's words..

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Those words stayed with Rhett as he helped Scarlett on to the now completely refurbished dock at the Landing. Ella and Wade were eager to start up the pathway to the house, but Scarlett's stern warning that anyone who might run ahead would be forbidden the opportunity to explore for the rest of the weekend had effectively nailed their feet to the dock, for the time being at any rate.

They reached the house just as the sun had begun to set, casting a pale soft glow over the house and sloping front lawn. Each of the beveled windows glittered like a prism, scattering twinkling rainbows across the surface of the glass.

Helping Scarlett up the wide stone steps he felt a sense of peace and rightness descend over his soul. Julia Ashley had been partially right the other day. He had been pushing the teams restoring the Landing so hard over the last month because he was indeed preparing the house for his family's homecoming.

What good would it have been, to bring the Landing back to its former glory if the house stood empty, a testament to a past long gone. Instead the children would run through the halls, accompanied by Toby and most likely other animals that he would be cajoled into procuring for them. Scarlett would preside over his table once more. She would be the undisputed mistress of Dunmore Landing, and he found, in his heart of hearts, he could not envision any other eventuality but the one in which he was currently living.

A year and a half ago when he'd left Scarlett behind in Atlanta, he would have never thought that things could turn out the way they had. But, gradually, he was coming to accept that people could indeed change. The changes, rather than tearing them further apart, had revealed that there was enough left between them to be a bridge over the time that had passed.

The waning light illuminated her form like a corona, she reminded him of the icons in some of the churches of central Europe and he was entranced.

"Scarlett?" he said softly.

She turned slowly, carefully minding her balance. "Rhett," she replied, "I forgot how beautiful the Landing is."

He moved toward her, closing the space between then in two ground devouring steps. Gently he swept her up and carried her over the threshold to the delight of Ella and the feigned embarrassment of Wade.

"Carry me next Uncle Rhett," squealed Ella gleefully, jumping up and down as she clapped her hands.

Wade caught Ella's hand and tugged it meaningfully. "Ella, settle down. Uncle Rhett only carried mother because she is tired," he offered.

Rhett caught his stepson's eye and grinned. "That's not quite it. I carried you mother over the threshold because she is my wife."

Wade smirked devilishly. "I don't understand, isn't that something people do when they are newly married?" he asked.

Botticelli could not have painted a more angelic face than Wade's. His eyes, however; danced merrily. This was the family he had always dreamed of being a part of. One comprised of a vivacious and clever mother, a dashing heroic father, and a brace of giggly sisters. He smiled at Ella who, without comprehending the cause of his smile returned it with her own gap toothed grin.

Rhett laughed warmly. "Every day I spend with your mother makes me feel like a newly wed man because I never know what to expect."

Ella tilted her head in confusion. "But you and mother have been married forever."

"They haven't Ella, it just feels that way," answered Wade innocently.

Neither Wade nor Ella could understand why their parents burst into laughter that continued for several minutes after Wade's comment.


	93. Rebirth

**Took some direct influence from GWTW and the nature of being a lady for this chapter.**

The sounds of the two crews of workmen Rhett had hired in addition to the crews he already had working on the exterior of Dunmore Landing echoed through what had once been the grand ballroom. A cascading series of crashes reverberated through the house. Scarlett winced lightly. Years spent in the mills had insulated Scarlett from being startled by loud and sudden noises, but that didn't make her immune to the headache that was beginning to take hold. She could not hold back the slight furrowing of her brow when the hammering began from the front of the house.

Great balls of fire, she thought, it's a good thing we're only here for a few days or I'd go crazy before next week. I always thought the lumber mills were loud, but they were nothing in comparison to the constant buzz of activity that began around seven in the morning and, according to Rhett, did not end until dusk.

At least tomorrow was Sunday so she would be able to spend one day at the Landing without the constant thumping and just general overall air of chaos that nearly always seemed to accompany even the most carefully executed construction project.

While the children had been settling in the previous day, Rhett had taken her on a short tour of the first floor of the Landing.

"_This is something I have wanted to show you for a long time, it's something I am determined to restore, no matter what the cost." Stopping at what looked like any other section of wall, Rhett reached out to tug on a brass ring that had escaped Scarlett's notice. Scarlett heard a faint click from within the door, but when Rhett pushed on the door it did not open. Applying his shoulder to it, he was able to push it inward._

_"Oh," exclaimed Scarlett looking upward at the ceiling that Rhett later named for her as a geometric dome, "what is this place?"_

_He smiled at her obvious enchantment. "It is, or rather was, my grandmother Gwen's conservatory_."

_"The one who married the pirate?" asked Scarlett, smiling as she turned herself slowly to take in the tarnished splendor of the room._

_Despite it's glass littered floor, the conservatory was still majestic and in spite of the numerous panes of missing glass, it was warm despite the faint chill that had been in the air. A few straggling plants clung to life in what was left of the great stone urns and planters that had once filled the room. "Wasn't she the one your grandfather stole away from Doctor Cross's grandfather?"_

_He laughed, pleased that she had been listening. "The very one. Despite loving my grandfather deeply, she was lonely for England. My grandfather asked her what would make her feel more at home and she told him that what she missed most was the orangey at Kew Gardens. My great-grandfather bought at least sixty new slaves to work on the orangey, the glass had to be brought from Virginia by ship. I can't even imagine what it must have cost from inception to completion." He reached out and tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. "She was the love of his life, when she died giving birth to my father, it broke my grandfather. He married a second time, to my grandmother Rose so that his children would have a mother. She was a shrew and made him that much more miserable in the face of what he had lost. I only knew him in his decline, but he kept Grandmother Gwen's miniature around his neck on a cord till the day he died. My father buried him with it, as he had requested._

_He brought her to a still mostly intact, though soot stained wall of glass. Rubbing a little at the grim, he was able to make a small porthole. "That was the North Wing, it was where the fire started. If I had been here…"_

_The north wing was still a precarious area comprised of burnt out rooms, crumbling walls, and buckling timber. With his obvious heartbreak clouding his eyes, Rhett had told her that the north wing was not salvageable and would have to be pulled down. _

"_If you had been here, then you would have had to watch those bastards destroy your home," she said wisely. "But I do know how you feel, I remember coming home to Tara and finding it…" she shuddered suddenly, feeling vaguely ridiculous for revealing such obvious weakness._

_He took her into his arms and held her tightly. "In New Orleans, I remember promising you that I would finance your attempts to rebuild Tara as it was before the war. Scarlett, I made that offer in an attempt to force love from you, to try and make a place in your heart for myself. I thought that might be enough, but I confess, I made that offer knowing it would impress you, but without understanding the magnitude of what a promise like that must have truly meant to you."_

_She rested her hand against his chest. "You'll never know how much that meant to me. It was part of why I couldn't stay at Tara indefinitely after you went back to Charleston. The way Tara looks has a great deal to do with your generosity. Will does so much, but he couldn't do it without the money I send. And the money I send is used on top of all of the money you spent during our first visit together. You paid for all of the new equipment, the barn, the extra hands we hired on."_

_He lowered his mouth to hers, and kissed her. At first it was meant to be a simple act of affection; he was appreciative of her developing ability to find common ground on which to meet and lately, comfort him. He started to draw back but it was Scarlett who chose to continue their kiss. _

_Normally, she was reluctant when it came to initiating further intimacy between them, but things were changing between them. Scarlett had found a hidden well of confidence and it emboldened her when it came to showing Rhett the magnitude of her feeling for him. It is human nature to want most what was nearly lost, to place a value beyond the price of pearls on that which is made precious by tears, by blood, by adversity._

_Scarlett was a businesswoman who knew the value of a hard to obtain commodity and she had paid dearly for Rhett. Mustering every bit of daring she could, she drew his head down, resting her hand lightly on the nape of his neck before gently exerting a small amount of pressure on the tips of her nails. Not so hard as to cause pain, but rather to remind him of the way she would cling to him in the depths of lovemaking._

_The combination of contrasting sensations shifted his initial intent from a display of affection to a need to taste her, to prove to himself that she was at last completely his._

_Slowly, __he ran his tongue over her lips, gently nipping them, till she moaned softly. Seeking more from her, needing her with a ferocity that vaguely unsettled him, __Rhett began to explore the curves of her lips with his mouth, __When he drew back, __she slid her hand from the nape of his neck to his cheek, molding her palm to the pronounced contours of his jaw.__ He turned his head slightly and pressed his lips to her palm._

"_We'll bring it back, we'll make it as grand a plantation as it was before the war," she told him with a smile, paraphrasing his long ago offer to help rebuild Tara._

"_You are good to me," he said, chuckling. _

"_Yes, I am, and don't you go forgetting that." The smile slid away, replaced by sheer honesty. "I like it here Rhett, I like the person I am, the person I've become since I got here. If you don't want to go back to Atlanta except for an occasional visit, I wouldn't be aggrieved."_

_Genuine emotion flooded his face. This was the happiest time in his life and to have her here to share it with him made it all complete. It had been a journey that had taken him to hell and yet, somehow, he had come back. Now, the darkness and pain had been banished, pushed back by peace and by love. His love for her, for their children and for Dunmore Landing. _

_He kissed her softly, before lifting her chin to met her eye to eye. "I appreciate that honey, but let's wait and see. You still have business interests in Atlanta and Wade had Miss Pitty and Henry, Ashley and Beau. However, there isn't anything to stop us from buying a house in Charleston. I love my mother, but I want us to have a home of our own. The Landing will always hold a special place in my heart, but it's one of those houses that makes you feel like a caretaker." _

_His eyes took in the destruction the Yankee army had left in its wake. "While I was gone, disowned as it were, I would dream about Dunmore Landing sometimes. That first year, when I was on my own, lying on my bedroll out in California, I would walk through the Landing in my mind. Committing it to memory in case it started to fade away, like a dream."_

_He moved away a little to contemplate the wreckage of the North Wing. Hating the pain and loss she saw in his face and stance, __she slipped her hand into his and, with a squeeze, asked him to tell her about what it had been like when he was young. _

_In a voice haunted by memories, he began to speak of a life that did not include her, a life that had begun seventeen years before she'd been born. _

_The north wing, he explained, had been where his room had been as a child and where he'd spent most of his early years. The schoolroom and the small library where the Butler children had taken their lessons once they were deemed too old for a governess had been there too. _

_He told her that he would have liked nothing more than to have been able to give Wade all of the volumes he had poured through when he'd been Wade's age. He had been an avid reader, he recalled, consuming books as quickly as his brother did sweets._

"_The plans for ships I had designed were in sketchbooks in the little library. I remember them in some small detail, but I would have liked to be able to show some of my ideas to Wade. It's the little things though, there losses hurt the most. My first rifle, it was a gift from my grandfather, the bible I carried when I made my confirmation was in my old bedroom. I'm not one for religion, but still, it would have been nice to see Ella carry it on her wedding day." _

_He chuckled harshly, taking her forward as he started to leave the conservatory, "My pet, I am becoming one of those old men who reminisces about what once was. What's gone is just that, gone. I am not about to bring the Landing back in order to make it some sort of shrine to its past. To my past. We are going to make this house a home, together."_

"A home", she whispered softly. Knowing how much the Landing meant to Rhett was sobering. For him to tell her that this was their home, his and hers, meant he was entrusting her with his past and their future. That was a solemn trust and she was determined not to let him down.

Turning her mind to the task at hand, that of the initial repairs to be made, she listed the positive and negative aspects of the house on a fresh sheet of paper. The main rooms of the house, while dilapidated and musty, were not damaged so badly that they could not be brought back. If they approached each aspect of the renovation and restoration of Dunmore Landing with a clear sense of purpose, it could be done within the next two years.

At that projection, Rhett had given her a look that bordered on amused disbelief, complete with a raised brow that bespoke his skepticism. But, after the children and Penny had gone up to bed, they had spent nearly two hours in Rhett's study going over the ever growing lists of just what needed to be done to the Landing and in what order they would tackle it.

With a clear, unsympathetic eye Scarlett vetoed or approved the first round of rooms. Rhett had wanted to restore the large, formal dinning room that his mother had so loved, but Scarlett had been swift to point out that it wasn't very practical as it was a long way from the kitchen, which meant extra work for the skeleton crew of servants they were intending to employ for the foreseeable future.

Instead, she suggested the small breakfast room off of the kitchen where it had been custom for children to take their morning and midday meals as the ideal room for their present needs. It was in passable shape, needing only some furniture and an afternoon or two of dedicated scrubbing to put it in order once more.

_As she finished laying out her plans, Rhett's amusement had abated and turned to open admiration. "It's little wonder Tara looks the way it does now. Every time I think I know all there is to know about you, you surprise me. Please accept my most sincere apologies for my earlier disbelief. I believe you now, we may actually have Dunmore Landing looking as it did."_

"_We will," she assured him, "with the amount of money you're willing to spend on hiring help, this will be easier than restoring Tara, even though its such a large house. Will never wanted, and still hate,s to take money from me, so it's been an uphill battle."_

Scarlett scribbled on the pad that rested on her lap. Inside Wade and Rhett were going room by room to see what furniture might be salvaged and reclaimed for the rooms in the house they intended to use when they were visiting. It made no sense to her thrifty nature to buy anything more than what they absolutely needed until the work was done. Once they finished, that would be a different story. The house would be beautiful, of that she had no doubts.

Running a mental inventory of the Peachtree Street house, she worked room by room, methodically listing each piece of furniture. There were many fine pieces in the Peachtree Street house; it only made sense that some pieces could be shipped by rail to Charleston and then by launch to the Landing.

Not knowing of her scheme, Rhett had told her to simply write for catalogs from some of the larger crafts shops and auction houses. She fully intended to do just that, but there was a whole house filled with furniture that was already bought and paid for, just waiting to fill Dunmore Landing.

Of course, there were some pieces that were admittedly not fitting for the simple elegance of the Landing, her large gilt bed with its ruby velvet hanging and cherub adorned headboard immediately came to mind.

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She could just picture Rhett facet if she told him her heart was set on having that bed in the master suite of the Landing.

He might just say yes though. Ever since their reconciliation he had been the soul of consideration, fulfilling nearly every request she had made of him. There was a part of her that whispered, it's because of the accident, he feels guilty every time he sees you limping about with that cane.

Anger and disgust twisted her stomach into a knot. Why did they have to have such a stupid accident? Some good had come out of it, she could not deny that, but her weakened state drove her to distraction. She itched to be inside, shouting directions and climbing on to tabletops and ladders to personally inspect the slow but steady progress the crews were making. Who better than she to supervise? She had experience in building and of course in restoring Tara. But Rhett had refused to allow her to so much as lift a finger until the women he'd hired to help had arrived. She found herself in a state between boredom and anticipation.

It was enthralling to be part of the effort to bring such a grand house back from the brink of rot and decay. She had so many ideas for the house that she could not wait to get started. This time she would do things right when it came to decorating their home.

Rhett's feelings and tastes would have to be taken into consideration this time. When she had been decorating the house in Atlanta, she had not bothered to ask him what he might like in a house. She had spent a nearly grotesque amount of money on the house without once consulting Rhett. Would it have made the slightest bit of difference if, just once, she had taken the time to ask him what he might like?

He liked rich, elegant things. Pieces that could be cherished and enjoyed, pieces that were destined to one day become family heirlooms. He liked things to be comfortable and not overdone or garish. There would be no red plush drapes or dreary flocked wallpapering in any of the rooms at Dunmore Landing. She knew now that such things only made a house seem dreary and dark.

Her time in Charleston had redefined her concepts of what was attractive in home furnishings and ornaments. The house on Peachtree Street had been a massive mistake in judgment. But, she had been like a child given free reign in a candy shop. A child did not know when to stop and would gorge itself until the result was a severe tummy ache and a lasting lesson in overindulgence.

Before the war and its subsequent depravations had warped her perceptions of what was attractive she had had a keen sense of taste when it came to decoration. Her mother had often complimented her choices in clothes and the way she paired colors together into attractive, if somewhat unconventional, combinations.

Her bedroom at Tara had been beautifully done; it had been the sort of room a princess would have felt altogether at home in. For her thirteenth birthday, her father had surprised her with a trip to Savannah for two weeks so that she could select fabric for her bedclothes and drapes. Before they had departed, her father had surprised her with a beautiful carpet all the way from a place called Persia.

The carpet with its intricate knot pattern had disappeared from her room at some point during the war. When she'd returned to Tara after the fall of Atlanta it was gone, a darker rectangle of wood was all that was left. She never had the desire to inquire after its fate. Most likely it had ended up rolled up and lashed to the saddle of some damned Yankee raider.

Distance from the house on Peachtree Street had given her the room to reflect on her design choices and acknowledge that most of them were dreadful. Ellen would have been not only horrified but also disconcerted by her 'monument to bad taste.' The house was not a home in even the broadest definition of the word.

Tara had been a home, Miss Eleanor's house on the Battery was a home, and even Pittypat's overdone fussy house had had a certain, comfortable charm to it. The mansion on Peachtree Street had been built to inspire awe and admiration in both its size and grandeur. However, she hadn't realized that it was very difficult to have a house that was both awe inspiring and homey at the same time.

She had always dreamed, when she had been scraping and scrimping of some day. When there was security and plenty in her world again, she would rise above her normal selfish inclinations and be a great lady as Ellen had been. She would be kind and allow herself to be sheltered, as a lady should be, and then everyone would approve of her, whispering behind crackling palmetto fans, that Scarlett Kennedy is a lady through and through.

Back then she had been Scarlett Kennedy and hadn't ever expected to take on another name. She had assumed that she would alternately coddle and bully Frank through the rest of his life. She had never thought that she would be in the position to marry for a third time. Least of all to Rhett Butler, blackguard and career rogue.

She had assumed, at the time, that money would soften the hard edges that poverty and fear had chiseled into her character. She thought she would finally be kind and gentle, as Ellen had been, and thoughtful of other people and readily observant of the proprieties that governed the lives of those around her.

Now, here she was. She finally had a husband who not only loved her, but who could provide for her for the rest of her life. She had her own money in the bank, more money than she could have imagined during the days she was hording every cent, hiding them away in her knitting basket and scrap bag least the Yankees confiscate her bank accounts or business or both.

She was no longer driven, day and night, by a myriad of all consuming fears and now in Charleston, among Rhett's friends and family, life was slowly becoming unhurried affair. She had time to play with her children and listen to their lessons. There were afternoons when ladies who were ladies Mammy and Ellen would recognize and approve of, would call and visit till the bells of Saint Michael's chimed half past four.

People approved of her in Charleston. It had been so long since she had been able to bask in the approval of her neighbors that she was torn as to where to direct her energies. She was becoming bored with gossiping the long afternoons away. It was, for the present, a pleasant distraction, one that she had grown to miss in Atlanta, but she needed some sort of project, a daily challenge to involve herself with.

A business such as the types she'd run in Atlanta would be out of the question. She hated to have to cut and force herself into the molds and expectations of those around her, but to run a lumber mill or own a building leased to a saloon in Charleston would erode her hard won social acceptance until she was once more an outcast.

She supposed she could visit those who were suffering misfortune, take baskets to the poor and soup and jelly to the sick and "air" those less fortunate in the carriage Rhett had promised her when she had regained her strength.

For that she had to thank Sally. Sally Brewton had been quite vocal amongst her friends over the last week. After all that poor Scarlett had suffered she couldn't be expected to trot herself around the city as though she were hale and hardy. No doubt the poor thing would try exactly that rather than shame the Butlers and probably she would drop dead in the streets as a result.

That wouldn't do, in Sally's august opinion, Rhett Butler needed to buy Scarlett a carriage and a sweet tempered pair of mares to pull it just as soon as she was back on her feet. With such vocal support no one would dare judge her now for riding in a carriage.

Could she be so selfless? Devote her self to the sort of daily obligations that Melly had? She had been Lady Bountiful, in act and thought. Just as Scarlett had always meant to be when she was secure enough to practice selfless virtue. If she could, she would be a lady in the true Southern manner of old, as her mother had been. And then, everyone would love her as they had loved Ellen.

With a shaking half gasp half sob, she pushed aside the light afghan Rhett had lovingly draped over her and struggled to stand. That would never be her. She could never hope to live up to Ellen' legacy and become Lady Bountiful. Her mother was dead and there was no way she could ever assume that mantle.

She racked her brain for the piece from her mother's evening readings about what Jesus had told God. Something about passing a cup because it was more than he could bear.

God's nightgown, she thought with a frown, I've spent so much time at that blasted church trying to prove my devotion so I could meet with the bishop I'm starting to compare myself to the Lord Jesus himself.

Her mother, for whatever her reasons had been, had spent her entire life in Clayton County setting the bar higher than Scarlett could ever jump. She was a Scarlett Butler, businesswoman, pure and simple. The businesswomen in her saw a bad business plan and struggled against it. It was a plain doomed to failure and if there was anything that her hardheaded, realist mind objected to it was engaging in any project that was doomed to failure before it was even started.

Talking a shaking step forward, she kept the cane just hovering over the hard stone patio. She wanted to see if she could do it, take at least one step unaided.

"Mama?"

She turned toward the house. Ella was standing in the doorway to the ballroom, a look of nervous apprehension on her face."


	94. In the Sun

"Ella," she said, putting most of her weight back on the cane. Making her way toward her daughter, her mind worked frantically to try and read Ella's expression.

She had seen her just now, trying to walk without the cane. If Ella, no matter how unintentionally, innocently slipped and told anyone, she would be back on bed rest faster than she could blink. One of the terms of being released from bed rest was that she would not overexert or push herself and hamper her progress.

"Ella," she repeated, "what you saw just now, that has to stay between us…" Her words came quickly, and with a real effort she attempted to sound nonchalant. It was a useless effort, she realized, taking in her daughter's expression. Ella, young as she was, fully comprehended the seriousness of what she had just witnessed, that was evident in the way she was chewing her bottom lip ever so slightly.

Just like Frank, she thought with a guilty twist of her stomach. Whenever she had been involved in some business that Frank disapproved off, he would chew his lip nervously as he screwed up the courage to scold her. She was just waiting for Ella to let out with "Now Sugar." "I was just trying to see if I could stand without the cane, it was only for a moment."

Ella's eyes, so like Ellen's, regarded her solemnly. "You are supposed to use the cane. Doctor Cross told me that I have to be a good nurse and always make sure it's right by where you can reach it so that you don't try to walk without it."

Guilt at the forlorn expression on her daughter's sweet face tore at Scarlett. Once again, she had, no matter how unintentionally, caused her daughter pain.

A wave of nausea caused her stomach to roll. She had finally come to realize just how much Ella meant to her; to lose that newly discovered love would break her heart. She did not often give the late Frank Kennedy much thought, but in the last two weeks she had given a lot of thought to the many events that had brought her to her current situation. Frank and the role she had played in his death had been on her mind, most often since the arrival of the children.

She had as good as murdered Frank. No matter what Rhett had said, in her heart she knew that she had had a direct hand in his death. Someday, would she have to explain to Ella about Frank? Would she be called to account for the events that had led up to Frank's death? Had Sue, while unleashing her hatred for Scarlett, said anything about Frank's death. Wade would know, she decided. She would draw him aside one day very soon and ask. Better to know than not, she concluded.

There was still the matter at hand to be dealt with. It could not be swept away, to be dealt with when she chose to. Rather. the situation would have to be dealt immediately. "Sweetheart, you have been a wonderful nurse, just as good as Aunt Melly was during the war," said Scarlett, offering what she knew Ella would take as the ultimate complement. "But, I have to try and see if I can't help myself get better." Scarlett smiled, her dimple appearing. "The sooner I'm better, the sooner we can talk walks together or have picnics without having to worry about how I'll get about."

Ella might have shared some physical mannerisms with her late father, but the skeptical disbelief in her eyes was pure Scarlett. "Uncle Rhett would be mad if he saw you."

With increasing respect, Scarlett nodded. How could she have ever thought that Ella was nothing more than a silly, empty-headed ninny? She might be bubbly and a little high strung, but her daughter was no fool. In fact, it was slowly becoming apparent that she was in possession of an intellect that Scarlett had never previously suspected existed below her daughter's normally giddy surface. "Yes, he would be."

The hem of Ella's dress ruffled in the breeze. Except for the noise coming from the workmen, it was as though the world had paused, holding its breath in anticipation of Ella's answer. "I won't tell nobody," she said finally.

"Anybody, baby," corrected Scarlett automatically. Love for her amazing daughter banished the churning feeling in the pit of her stomach. "It's anybody, and thank you. But you know that means not even Wade can know, or Beau, when he comes."

"I won't tell no…anybody. I don't ever break promises. Aunt Sue says you go to hell if you break promises…"

Scarlett waved a dismissive hand at the mention of Sue and her biased opinions. "Let's not worry our heads about anything Aunt Sue says." An idea came to her and she voiced it eagerly. "Come sit down with me and we'll work out a list of things we'll need for your bedroom."

"Won't I sleep in the nursery?" asked Ella curiously. She had always slept in the nursery, both in Atlanta and at Tara.

Things were apparently going to be very different in Charleston. In Grandmamma's house she had been given, for the first time, her own room. She had found that it was lovely to be able to close the door and sit in the window seat, looking out toward the harbor and just have quiet time to her self to let her imagination run away with her.

Scarlett lifted her hand to her throat and, looking affronted, shook her head. "Certainly not, my daughter is nearly a young woman. You need your own room. A room fit for a princess," she added fondly.

They sat back down, Scarlett in the chaise and Ella on a large, threadbare and faded striped cushion she had found on one of the window seats in the dilapidated ballroom.

Ella suggested colors and then she began, at first hesitantly, but then with growing eagerness, to list the pieces of furniture she wanted. A vanity table, just like the one Scarlett had in her room in the house on the Battery, a bed with a canopy so that she could close the curtains whenever she wanted to be alone, and a table and chair set where she could invite her mother, grandmamma, and Aunt Rosemary to take tea with her were among the numerous things she listed as must haves.

Just as they were finishing, racing hoof beats echoed through the quiet that marked the lunch hour as having begun for the workmen. Ella sprang to her feet, her auburn curls bouncing as she jumped up and down in an attempt to see over the parapet. "Someone's coming mama."

Scarlett rose up slightly, shielding her eyes, she could see two riders coming across the still untouched upper field. As they came closer she could see by the habits they wore that they were two women . "Ella, it looks like we have company. Would you run inside and tell Uncle Rhett?"

Ella quickly complied and as a result, Wade and Rhett emerged from the ballroom just as Julia Ashley and Caroline Greer reigned in.

"Hello to the lot of you," called Julia pleasantly. "Rhett, you do remember Caroline Greer, my brother's daughter, don't you?

Caroline dipped her head regally. She was riding sidesaddle on a beautiful strawberry roan mare that pranced at Rhett's approach. With a sharp click of her tongue and a quick tug on the reins she soon brought the spirited animal under control.

Rhett wiped his hands on his handkerchief before offering her his hand. With a surprising firm grip, she took his large hand in her own slim, glove encased grasp. "Of course I remember your niece. Miss Greer, it's good to see you again." He watched her with an admiring eye. Caroline was obviously an accomplished young woman when it came to handling a horse. Allowing his mind to briefly wander, he wondered if Bonnie would have handled a horse with such finesse, if she had lived.

"Captain Butler, how do you do?" Her eyes took in the back terrace of the Landing. The stonemasons and bricklayers had finished the bulk of the work the week before. The chipped stonework had been repaired and the missing bricks filled back in. The feathered carvings on the banisters had been re-chiseled and rubbed with soot to make the carvings more pronounced.

From the conservatory, he had managed to salvage two large, limestone urns. They now stood on either side of the bottom step, each perched atop a carved stone pedestal.

Following her gaze Rhett smiled broadly and she returned his smile gleefully. "Oh Captain Butler, it's beginning to look just as though the Yankees were never even here." She beamed in obvious approval. "Why, it looks just as I remember it did."

"Have you been to the Landing before?" he asked.

"Years ago, when I was a little girl, but that was back during the war," she clarified. "Aunt Julia would bring me when she would come to call on Miss Eleanor. We would have tea on that very terrace and I remember how wonderful I thought your mother. She has such a way with children. She always made me feel as though I were a guest and not a little pest who came tagging along after Aunt Julia."

Julia gave a contemptuous little snort of amusement. "You were a little pest. I thought that you were completely without hope. Caroline, you were the most gauche little thing. I was plunged into fits of melancholy every time I was called upon to have you come for a visit," proclaimed Julia, with an exaggerated wince.

Tossing her head becomingly, Caroline airily rebutted Julia's comments. "Have you another niece named Caroline that you are confusing me with? The way I recall it, you used to demand that I come visit you. Mother and Father would throw themselves into a tizzy when they would receive a summons from you."

Picking up her fan from the wicker table Rhett had also reclaimed from the old conservatory, Scarlett slowly fanned herself as she watched her son watch Caroline Greer. Wade was leaning against the doorframe of the ballroom doors with a speculative look of interest on his handsome, slightly grimy face.

Could it be that her little boy was far more grown up then she'd given previously believed? He was watching the Greer girl with an expression of intense interest that she had never seen on his face before. Did he like Caroline Greer or not? It was hard to decide just based from his expression. He was most definitely watching her, of that Scarlett was completely certain.

A small twinge of mischief made her extend a sudden invitation. "Miss Julia, won't you and Caroline come and sit a spell. I shouldn't invite you inside, it's too musty at present, but I'm sure Rhett and Wade can find some more chairs."

Julia glanced at the filigree watch on her breast. "Why not. We're expecting my other nieces tomorrow, but I expect Latvia will have their rooms ready. They were supposed to arrive earlier in the week but they were held up," she said, sniffing disdainfully at the tardiness of her nieces.

"I thought you said they'd be sleeping in stalls next time they visited," commented Caroline innocently.

"Caroline," said Julia sharply, "Watch your tongue."

Caroline had the good sense to look down in feigned embarrassment, momentarily abashed by Julia's sharp look of displeasure.

Wade smothered a grin at Caroline's chastisement. Scarlett watched as the previous interest he had exhibited faded from his face. Could she have misinterpreted his earlier interest? She was admittedly not a particularly astute judge of what people were feeling or thinking at any given time, but it seemed that Wade had at least some sort of interest in Julia Ashley's niece.

While Scarlett contemplated Wade's attitude toward Caroline Greer, Rhett was helping Julia down. Before he could extend the same curtsey toward Caroline, she had already slid from her seat. Landing lightly on the ground, she looped her reins elegantly around the pommel of her saddle.

With a series of smooth, unhurried movements Caroline unfastened the hook and eye closures of her ivory, kidskin riding gloves. The bright afternoon sunlight caught the silver buttons on her riding habit, causing each to gleam like a small constellation set against the deep blue of her habit.

The black felt hat she wore, set further back on her head then what was strictly considered fashionable, perfectly contrasted with her rosy complexion. Her beautiful face was completely unmarred by any signs of a difficult adolescence

Again, Rhett was struck by the graceful, fluid symmetry of Caroline's movements. Seldom did he compare the living to the dead; but he could not help but look at Caroline Greer and wonder if Bonnie would have been like her, self-assured and utterly at home in her self.

Unaware of the scrutiny she was currently the subject of, Caroline smoothed her midnight blue habit and, with the grace of a ballerina, made her way up the wide stone steps. Her dark hair hung low, caught up in a chignon. The skirt of her habit was draped behind her in a series of graceful folds, accentuating her small waist and petite form to perfection.

Catching her skirts up, she executed a modest curtsy. When she finished, her stormy gray eyes met Scarlett's own amused gaze, the message in them was completely clear. 'Isn't it ridiculous that I am expected to do this' Caroline's expression announced.

It was all Scarlett could do to keep from laughing. In behavior and decorum, not even that old cat Mrs. Merewether would have been able to find fault with Caroline Greer. But still, there was something about Caroline that both amused and intrigued Scarlett. A hidden will of iron was there, concealed by flashing eyes, and cunning dimpled smiles.

For all the girl's pretty manners and demure ways, she suspected that Caroline, had she been several years older , would have come through both the war and it's aftermath with her chin held high and her fortunes assured. Caroline was a survivor. She found herself suddenly hoping that Caroline would never have to find out just what she could survive.

Looking at the girl, it was easy to see why Julia favored Caroline so blatantly. Just as Gerald had made no secret of his pride and affection for her, Julia was clear in her preference for Caroline. Both Julia Ashley and Gerald O'Hara had seized control of their fates and made lives for themselves outside of what had been their expected paths and because of that, they were able to appreciate others of the same ilk.

Inclining her head, Scarlett nodded politely. "Good afternoon Miss Greer."

She was immediately graced with a show of small, perfect white teeth framed by coral lips. "Mrs. Butler, I hope you won't think that I am putting myself too far forward when I say you are looking well. It seems being at Dunmore Landing has practically brought you back to good health."

In the days before the war Caroline would have made a perfect belle, thought Scarlett with frank admiration. Mammy herself could not have hoped for a charge who possessed one-tenth the poise and self-restraint Caroline Greer did. It was only her fascinating eyes that threatened to give away the secret thoughts she might be harboring below the face she presented to the world.

"That's kind of you to say. I am feeling much improved. The country has always done that for me. You said you visited here before the war, would you like to see the inside of the house? I'd be glad to show you some of the improvements Captain Butler has made over the last year. There's a great deal to be done, but I should be practicing getting around with," she gestured disdainfully at her cane, "this thing. I am getting better, but I still have a long way to go."

"I'd love to," replied Caroline.

Scarlett began to struggle to her feet. Rhett immediately moved forward, his foot resting on the bottom step even as Wade started to extend his hand to his mother. "Not another step, either of you," warned Scarlett, "I will be able to manage on my own, thank you."

Wade grinned bashfully. "Sorry mother."

Rhett raised his eyebrow sardonically. "She's right Wade. It's best we let your mother do things on her own. The way I see it, the sooner we get your mother on her on two feet, unaided, the better." With an expression that oozed sincerity, he struggled to keep the laugher out of his voice. "It's only a matter of time till she starts employing that cane for any other purposes that might strike her fancy. Tripping the aunts or poking at me when I don't agree with her color schemes come to mind."

"You are a cad Rhett Butler," she replied indignantly, but her lips quivered as she fought back a smile. "Here I am, nearly crippled, and you think for a minute I would abuse you with my cane? Or that I might trip my aunts with my cane? How could you think that of me?"

His brow rose significantly, before he made a bow. "Will you accept my apologies?"

"You're forgiven." She turned her attention toward Caroline. "Shall we?"

"Yes please, Mrs. Butler."

Wade swaggered across the length of the patio to open the door to the study, one of the few rooms that had many restored features to be admired. He stood at the door as if on sentry duty, waiting for the women to pass.

"Will you be accompanying us on our tour?" asked Caroline sweetly.

"If you don't mind," said Wade, giving Caroline a measured look that said 'I'd sooner leave my mother alone with an alligator than with the likes of you.

"Not at all."

Julia waited till they were presumably out of earshot before she came to Rhett's side at the bottom of the steps. Drawing off her riding gloves with some difficulty, Julia took a moment to flex her somewhat palsied fingers. Though Julia's face had hardly aged, there was one outstanding sign of aging that was readily visible. Julia suffered from periodic bouts of arthritis every spring and again in the fall. Despite her normally vigorous manner, there was a clear undercurrent of pain running through her body.

"How long till your arthritis improves?" He asked politely.

"Another few weeks I expect. Growing old is a terrible inconvenience," she smiled slightly, "although, when faced with the alternatives, I suppose a touch of arthritis is a small price to pay."

She was studiously avoiding his dark, piercing eyes. There was a Carolina Wren perched on a branch screaming out the absurd _teakettle-teakettle-teakettle _song of its breed. For several long minutes they stood regarding the noisy bird.

Sensing that Julia was just gathering her thoughts before voicing whatever was on her mind, Rhett casually remarked, "You might doubt me, but I found I missed those damned nuisances while I was living in Atlanta."

Julia tilted her head back to meet Rhett's expectant gaze. "She looks so tired, Rhett, even more so than when I saw her last week at Eleanor's. She didn't look completely herself, but I thought she was on her way. Now she looks..." her lips pursed with concentration as she racked her brains for just the right word. "Ethereal. She calls to mind a Millais heroine with the way she skin looks. Its nearly translucent. I was honestly relieved to find her sitting out in the sun. Maybe she'll get a little color back into her cheeks."

His tanned skin drew tight over the ridges of his face. Their attempt at small talk was pushed firmly to the wayside and he answered accordingly. "She is tired Julia. Right now, she is so happy with life that she is running off of that, but eventually she'll come crashing back to earth. I don't know what to do."

Fumbling through his pocket for his cigar case, he felt a small measure of comfort in confiding in Julia. It felt good to admit that aloud. For all her standoffish ways and acid tongue, Julia Ashley was wonderfully easy to talk to. Since the passing of Mrs. Wilkes, there were very few people that he could turn to for advice and solace. It was a pleasant surprise to find that once more in the form of Julia Ashley.

"You're her husband, doesn't that make you her lord and master? Surely, you can exert your husbandly influence to get her into bed?" asked Julia.

The double entendre was there, whether it was meant to be there, Rhett was uncertain. Julia's mild expression gave no sign that she might have knowingly made an off colored statement.

"She hates to stay in bed, and now that she officially is off of bed rest she is nearly unstoppable. Convincing her to even consider a nap is a fool's errand."

Julia rolled her rust colored eyes. "You've grown up to be such a stodgy old thing. For heaven sake, lure your wife into bed and try and keep her there."

He gave a roar of laughter. "You never cease to surprise me. Here I was playing the gentleman by overlooking your previous statement." With a faint smile, he shrugged. "In Atlanta, she was always up with the sun to prepare herself for the day. She'd spend all day at the mills or her store and then she was still up long past midnight most nights. Only when we were on our honeymoon I could convince her to loll around in bed past 8 a.m. Now, she can hardly keep her eyes open after nine o'clock but that doesn't stop her. She just forces herself to go on."

"What does the illustrious Doctor Cross have to say?"

Grimacing visibly, Rhett threw the cigar butt to the ground and ground it out with a swift, violent motion. "That she should just rest as she needs to. That would be fine advice if Scarlett weren't as stubborn as a mule. She wants to walk, so walk she will. If she doesn't drop from exhaustion first."

"Harley will be here in a few days, if you'd like a second opinion. I'm sure he would be willing to see Scarlett."

At the mention of Harley Cliff's name, some of the tension drained from Rhett's features. A teasing note came into his voice. "Ah. I thought that Doctor Cliff was still abroad. How is the good doctor? Still working up the nerve to declare his intentions?"

Her normal composure wavered as she smirked briefly. If he didn't know her as he did, he would be able to say for sure whether or not his teasing had disconcerted her. Her tart words left no doubts, he had made a hit.

"Don't use that impertinent tone of voice with me young man," she warned. "Harley Cliff is an old friend, and I do emphasize old. He is a year older than me and we are far too old for any sort of silly lovesick mooning about. I leave that to your generation."

"Mooning about, is that what you think I'm doing?"

Her expression softened. "No. You are worrying about someone you love dearly. There is nothing silly about that."


	95. Alpha and Omega

**A special thank you goes out to Dani and Brandy, who beta'ed for me when the chapter hit to close to home. I couldn't stand to re-read what I had written so they did it for me, thank you both.**

From the doorway to Rhett's study, Eleanor watched her only daughter as she studied the book in her lap. She was so different now from the clumsy, awkward girl she had been before she'd come under Scarlett's tutelage.

She had been so pleased by Rosemary's transformation, at first. It had been pleasant to have a daughter who at last sought out pretty frocks and didn't leave inkstains throughout the house. But, with Rosemary's feelings for Doctor Cross becoming more and more pronounced, it was glaringly apparent why she'd been so willing to become an apt pupil when it came to the feminine arts.

The gown, one of the new ones Scarlett had strong armed her into ordering was beautiful. The powdery Wedgwood blue frock trimmed with ecru lace and a thin pink satin ribbon shot through the eyelets of the heavily tatted lace suited Rosemary's strong features and dark, lustrous hair. It had never before been so shiny and full. No doubt, Scarlett had given Rosemary some sort of pointer.

Would it have been better if Rosemary hadn't gone through such a metamorphosis? She was finally as beautiful on the outside as she'd always been on the inside, but a small, guilty part of Eleanor's heart knew a moment's regret. If she had never changed into the elegant creature in a Wedgwood blue afternoon gown, perhaps she would have never caught the discerning eye of Jason Cross.

"Rosemary, may I have a word with you?" asked Eleanor, a small frown puckering her brow.

Warily, Rosemary lifted her eyes from the copybook she had been studying. Her mother had something pressing on her mind, and it looked as though she was about to share out the burden. It was about Jason, it had to be. There was nothing else it could be, nothing else but that. Turning her gaze downward, she stalled for time, marking the current page with her pencil. Knowing she could only put off the inevitable for so long, she finally looked up. "What is it mama? Could it wait, I'm just in the middle of something?"

Eleanor's gaze fell upon the book. Her expression turned grim. "You've been working on that all morning, may I ask what it is you're so focused on?"

"Um," Rosemary had the decency to look somewhat flustered. "Just brushing up on my French. I've spent so much time focusing on Latin that I pushed French to the side. This morning I was reading a play by Lambert and I could barely get through. I knew my French had suffered with neglect, but I suppose I'm rustier than I thought I was. I thought I might just study up a bit."

They held one another's gaze, each assessing her opponent.

"So, you've abandoned Latin?"

"No," she glanced down, wanting to avoid her mother's sharp eyes. "No, of course I haven't. I just thought I might work on my French, for a change of routine."

Eleanor sat on the mirror back sofa. For a time her brown eyes probed the expression on Rosemary's face. Finding what she expected, she screwed her resolution to the sticking place. There was no turning back now. Rosemary had to leave for Europe, the sooner, the better. "It's funny you should be brushing up on your French," she commented absently.

Thrown on guard, Rosemary's eyes narrowed with suspicion. Her mother was fidgeting nervously with the crochet runner on the arm of the sofa. The mood in the air was notably uncomfortable; mother and daughter hated confrontation and generally avoided it at all costs. It was rare for either of them to pursue any topic of discussion that could lead to someone emerging with hurt feelings.

"Really? Why?"

Eleanor's eyes blazed with determination. When she spoke, Rosemary started briefly; her normally soft-spoken mother's voice was strong and full of purpose, leaving no room for disagreement.

The woman sitting across from her, handing down her decision on the future course of Rosemary's life appeared to be a stranger. The queer, bright light that illuminated Eleanor's face was what awoke Rosemary to the real importance of the present conversation. Her mother was determined not to give an inch.

Her mind raced at a breakneck pace. Never in her entire life had she seen her mother in such a state. Always she had appeared before them all as gracious and deferring. But now, a lioness had emerged from beneath the guise of a lamb and Rosemary was left at a loss as to how to manage the woman sitting across from her.

The Butler siblings had each assumed that the streak of ruthless determination that carried them through life had come from their father. Steven Butler had always been a man determined to secure his own way in all things and as each of his children had reached maturity, they'd concluded that their father had to be the source of their stubborn, willful streak.

"Mother, if you…"

Eleanor raised a hand swiftly before she could stop herself. Remembering her manners she gestured delicately, cutting Rosemary off. "Aren't you pleased that I've finally come to a decision," she said with a brittle smile. "What's more, I am going to speak to Rhett when he comes back from the Landing tonight. You'll be able to go to Europe on a grand tour after all."

Feeling her face tingle slightly, Rosemary knew the blood must have drained from her checks. The cool, nonchalant look of polite interest that she'd been struggling to maintain flickered for an instant.

Eleanor could feel the alarm and anger radiating off of Rosemary as she struggled to bring herself back under control. "That is very kind of you mother."

Not mama, noted Eleanor, but mother. No turning back now. She had made her line in the sand and if she backed away from it, Rosemary would tread all over it. "I know you'll conduct yourself appropriately. There is the matter of finding you a chapero…"

Shaking her head slowly, Rosemary's dark eyes glittered. "I won't need a chaperone, I'm not going anywhere…"

"Rosemary," began Eleanor.

"It's not that I don't want to go. I would like to, someday. For now, my place is here with my family." The look of incredulous disbelief on her mother's face spurred Rosemary on. "With Scarlett still recovering and the children only having just arrived, it would be selfish of me to…"

"Oh, stop it Rosemary," spat Eleanor angrily. "I'd hate for you to actually start believing that hogwash about staying for the sake of this family. Call a spade a spade Rosemary, because honestly, you are and have always been a rotten liar. Even when you were a child, your mammy and I always knew when you were lying. Thank goodness you never had to make a living at the gaming table. You'd have been penniless in an hours time."

"Thank goodness it never came to that, it was Rhett's lot in life to be a gambler, not mine," countered Rosemary tartly. "I need to stay here, sending me away just now is ridiculous."

"You need to leave and not return until you've come to your senses."

"Couldn't you have just said this had something to do with Jason," said Rosemary, "Cross," she added a second later. The pause was barely noticeable, but Eleanor heard it. As loud as a gong, she heard it. Things had somehow gotten even further out of control than she'd initially suspected. Rosemary was calling Jason Cross by his Christian name was a thoughtless, matter of fact air that suggested she had done so in the past. "Not you too mother. Really, the role of a washerwoman is decidedly beneath you."

"Yes me too," replied Eleanor, not bothering to play coy. "People have begun to notice your infatuation with Doctor Cross. Sooner or later it will come back to Rhett."

"Well, this finally explains things. Scarlett is a great many things, but a busybody isn't one of them. It seemed so out of character for her to be dispersing advice about risking one's reputation."

"I don't know what you mean," said Eleanor stiffly.

Rosemary's lips twisted into a scowl. "If by people you mean Scarlett, she did do your bidding. If you were curious, that should put your mind somewhat at ease. She warned me off the dastardly Doctor Cross." Laughing dryly, Rosemary squared her shoulders.

"I did not order her to talk to you. If she did, it is because she is concerned for the position you are putting yourself in."

"Don't you mean the position this will put Rhett in? Poor Scarlett," muttered Rosemary.

"Poor Scarlett? Why?"

"I feel for her, it mustn't have been easy, having to tell me that Doctor Cross was unacceptable to Rhett." She grew quiet, lost deep in thought. "I wonder," she ventured thoughtfully, "I wonder if her parents had lived, would there have been a Scarlett Butler?"

"We aren't discussing Rhett and Scarlett…"

"Why not? Do you seriously think the O'Hara's would have had Rhett as a son in law by choice? The black sheep of the Butler clan marrying their treasured petted eldest daughter? It would have never happened if Scarlett's parents hadn't both been dead. The way Scarlett's described him; Scarlett's father adored her. He would have never let someone who wasn't received marry his daughter. And her mother was a Robillard; Rhett was a blackguard of the first tier. They would have locked her in her room and tossed away the key before they would have let her marry Rhett."

"That's neither here nor there…"

"You can't stand it, can you," asked Rosemary curiously. "You can't stand to listen to anyone criticize Rhett."

"No, I can't stand to listen to ingratitude. Your brother saved us from the poorhouse. I don't know what would have become of us if he hadn't stepped in after your father died. Everything in this house, right down to the clothes on our backs, was bought with Rhett's money. You are absolutely correct, I can't stand to hear anyone criticize Rhett. He has done so much for us, you owe him your respect and loyalty."

"Doesn't he owe me some respect? I'm not some silly little hen wit who can't be trusted to make my own decisions. I am a grown woman, I may not be as worldly as Rhett, or as familiar with the ways of men like Scarlett, but I just want my wants to count for something. Don't you think I should have a say in my own life?"

"That isn't fair, neither Rhett nor I have ever treated you as anything less than an intelligent woman…"

"You want to send me off to Europe to get me out of the clutches of the evil Doctor Cross. I feel as though I am an unruly child who needs to be banished to a boarding school. I am not 13, I am 23 years old. I'm sorry that you don't approve of Doctor Cross, I am sorry Rhett dislikes him so. I wish that wasn't so, but I can't live for anyone else. Rhett's grievances are his, not mine. They aren't even Jason's."

She came to her feet, her hands spread wide in appeal; Rosemary struggled to contain her temper. It wasn't her mother's fault that Rhett was the root of all the fuss about Jason.

"Mother, I love Jason Cross. Do you understand what I mean by that? Not just infatuated with him, or carrying some sort of girlish crush. I didn't set out to love him. For the love of God if I could have stopped myself, I would have. I know the trouble this will cause, I do. But I can't help it. I tried, I did, truly I did. I know he did too. Why would he want to love me, Rosemary Butler, the sister of the man who killed his brother? But he feels as I do. It isn't our past, it doesn't belong to us."

Eleanor stood and faced her daughter. She was torn between two conflicting emotions. The desire to embrace her headstrong daughter was every bit as strong as the longing she felt to seize Rosemary by the shoulders and begin shaking her until the teeth in her head rattled together. Rosemary had never been like other girls. She hadn't had a string of beaus to practice flirting on. She hadn't been one of the flighty girls who were constantly falling in and out of love. She had finally opened her heart, and now that Jason Cross was firmly entrenched in its confines, he would be nearly impossible to evict. Still, for all their sakes, she had to at least try "Rosemary, how could you two love one another? You barely know one another."

Rosemary's expression mellowed suddenly, her lips curved into a soft, secretive smile that chilled the blood in Eleanor's veins. Please God, she prayed suddenly, please don't let her have made a mistake so huge there'll be no returning from it.

"Mama," she explained gently, "I've come to believe that Jason is the reason why I never allowed any man to pay me any serious attention. I was waiting for him, I just didn't know it."

Eleanor's heart pumped frantically, the roar of the blood coursing through her ears began to pound in her ears, drowning out all rational thoughts, save one. No matter how hard she tried, she would never be able to change Rosemary's mind. "He's taking advantage of you, why can't you see that. You're a tool, a way for him to strike out at Rhett."

She regretted the words the moment after she spoke them, but it was too late. It had been too late for some time, realized Eleanor, she just hadn't known.

"Is it so inconceivable that he would love me for myself, that he could love me for myself,? Just because I'm not beautiful like Scarlett doesn't mean that someone couldn't love me every bit as much as Rhett loves her. He loves me. I love him. We don't give a damn what anyone thinks about that."

"Rosemary, you are a beautiful young woman. You were even before Scarlett intervened."

"I wasn't, I was completely lacking when it came to my appearance and manners. She fixed that. I am so grateful to her because she made it possible for me to become myself, the self I was meant to be all along."

"But surely you could at least give yourself time to meet…"

"I don't want to meet anyone else. The only thing I want is to be Mrs. Jason Cross. Why, if he asked me tomorrow morning, I'd be just that by tomorrow night."

"Rosemary! Do you know what people would say? You wouldn't be able to hold your head up in public if you ran off and eloped. How could you even entertain such a wild notion?" she scolded.

"Surely you should be used to having children who flaunt the opinion of polite society. Look at Ross; everyone knows that he is an embezzling drunk. He was fired from the bank for stealing and now Scarlett is combing through the mine accounts like a bloodhound on a trail. I think it's because there is money missing and Rhett knows precisely where to point an accusatory finger."

"We don't know that to be true," said Eleanor weakly.

"It is!" she declared vehemently. "We both know that it's only a matter of time until Rhett is forced to act. And what about Rhett? Rhett's always done what ever he wants whenever he wants. How else could he have gotten Scarlett? Why Jason said that he heard there was some suspicion that Rhett had something to do with Scarlett conveniently becoming a widow."

"Rosemary, that is enough, I don't care what Jason Cross has to say, not if it's lies and second hand gossip," cried Eleanor, her stomach wrenching painfully. Her beautiful, once loving daughter had turned ugly in a way she could have never foreseen. Her loyalties were no longer divided; they were decided.

"You've seen how he is about her; he loves her so much that it drives him, mercilessly. Is it so hard to imagine that that love drove him to mur…"

The force of Eleanor's hand against Rosemary's mouth cut off the last syllable of the word murder, but it hung in the air between them like a curtain, dividing them forever on opposite sides.

The fading SNAP of skin against skin had not yet faded away before Rosemary gathered her skirts in hand and fled the room.

Eleanor gripped her stinging hand tightly. She had never hit any of her children, not even a smack on the backside if they were misbehaving. In an instant she had ripped apart her relationship with Rosemary and nothing would ever be the same again. For any of them.


	96. Legacy

After a leisurely breakfast they the Butler family made their way down to the dock to wait for the launch. Jermore had promised he would arrive by 10, but as Rhett surveyed the conditions on the water, he commented that it would probably be closer to 10:30 before the launch arrived. Wade and Ella were trying to wait quietly, but they were soon giggling and otherwise harassing one another. Recognizing that they might as well enjoy themselves during the wait, Scarlett gave the children permission to play until the boat arrived, provided they stayed within her sight.

"I'd forgotten how nice it was to just be at the Landing. Every time I have been over here over the last year, I was always busy. I think that I've been so intent on saving it, that I've been too busy to really pay attention to the Landing itself. During the weekend, watching the children play on the grounds and now here with you, I realize why I want so much to bring it back."

In basic theory, she knew that he meant. It was the beauty and lingering grace of the Landing that comforted and inspired him. She was willing to admit that the grounds and house were beautiful, despite how overgrown and rundown they had become. But, it was the rebirth of the Landing that was inspiring her to work at bringing the Landing back.

She had never know it at it's best, but she could see that what was emerging from the ashes would be even more magnificent than what had been lost. She tried to appreciate the things he did, but that streak of sensibility overrode the attempt. The gentle lapping of the water against the shore was nice; but the sound of the work crews hard at work up at the house was a sound that truly soothed Scarlett. It would take time, but they would reclaim the Landing from the damage that the war and subsequent neglect had inflicted on it.

Turning back, Scarlett could see the third story jutting above the trees. Tears swelled in her eyes. The last time she'd left the Landing, Rhett had offered her a quarter of a million dollars in exchange for her cooperation in securing a divorce. This time he had offered to open an expense account to cover her purchases for Dunmore Landing. With a contented sigh Scarlett rested her body against Rhett's.

Leaning down, he pressed a kiss against her forehead. "Did you enjoy yourself this weekend?"

She tilted her head slightly and gave him one of the sideways, radiant smiles that always affected him. She had smiled that way when he'd bought her that green bonnet from Paris during the war. That single bliss filled, serene smile had traveled the world with him even if, physically, Scarlett hadn't. He had seen that smile time and time again in his mind, seen her smiling up at him with love and elation. It had taken over a decade, but now that she finally gave him smiles filled with such jubilation at least once a day he felt as though he could never turn away from her face. After all, what could there be in the entire world that was worth missing a second of the love in her eyes?

"Yes," she answered simply, not needing to expand on why she'd enjoyed herself so much.

"I'm glad. The last time we were here," he paused, aware of the pained look in her eyes, he wanted to change the subject, but he owed her an apology. "Rosemary told me what happened. I'm sorry that she told you…"

His words were lips a slap in the face. She hadn't expected them and they stung her. "It doesn't matter now," she whispered achingly, mindful of the close proximity of the children."

He looked at her for a long moment. It had been some time since his blank, careful mask had settled on his features, obscuring his mind from her. Had she known that love would unmask him, giving her all of him, body, mind and heart, she would have pushed the words past her reluctant lips that terrible day on the stairs. It was strange in a way to see that he was giving a great deal of thought to her words, considering them.

"I won't argue with you, but I swear to you, on my life, never to hurt you like that again."

"Don't be a fool, you're bound to. Just as I will hurt you, no matter how much I wish that wasn't so, it's the way of the world. We always hurt the people who care about us the most. They're the easiest to hurt, the ones who care."

The depth of her words took Rhett aback. He gently took her hand and as he kissed her palm, he could fell the flutter of her increased pulse. "Whose words were those?"

"Melly's," she replied matter of factly. "I asked her once; after I lost the baby, why couldn't you see how badly I needed you to acknowledge the loss, even a little. I told her that I thought you cared about me once, but that I'd come to believe that you didn't care for me at all. She insisted that wasn't so, that you loved me more than I'd ever know. Then she said just what I told you, that we always hurt the people who care about us most…" She looked up at the shifting expression on his face before turning her eyes down.

"Scarlett, I'm sorry that you thought I didn't care about you and about the baby. You've always known that I am quick to resort to malice and bad jokes. When I'm angry I say and do things that curdle my blood when I look back later."

"I shouldn't have brought up the baby…"

"You have a right to your pain."

"I may have a right to it, but I don't have any need for it. I don't want to keep dredging up past fights and hurts. This," she said gesturing behind them toward the house, "this is where I want to keep my mind focused. On this house and our family and how wonderful life is going to be because of the combination of the two."

The arrival of the launch robbed him of the opportunity to echo her sentiments. Instead he settled for a quick "I love you" before the children came scrambling to their side.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Comfortably settled on the bench that Jermore had once again prepared for her, Scarlett drifted into a sleepy, relaxed state. The scent of salt in the air and Rhett's cologne surrounded her in a cloud of comfort.

Looking back over the last three days she realized that she hadn't been so completely happy in years, if ever. They had spent the hours after the children had retired for the evening in Rhett's study, a fire burning brightly to banish the slight dampness in the air.

Just as in the early days of their marriage, they never ran out of things to discuss. The conversations touched upon a wide variety of topics from whether they might go somewhere relatively close for a few days vacation to what kind of business might Scarlett be able to run in Charleston without being ostracized.

The weekend they'd spent at the Landing had only strengthened her resolve. She had decided to cut ties to Atlanta in a big way. The store would be sold off as well as the saloon and several tracts of property on the outskirts of Atlanta. She'd intended the parcels of land for more houses, but that time in her life had passed. She no longer needed to be the patron saint of the Wilkes family. Ashley finally seemed to be managing. In the last year he had been rather successful in making a living for himself and Beau.

While she felt a faint pang of regret at no longer being needed the great sense of relief well outweighed that regret. She had promised Melly that she would watch over her family without Ashley knowing that he was relying on her largeness for his daily bread.

Atlanta was in her past. Some of her time there had been good; after all, Atlanta had been where Bonnie had lived her life and where she had finally realized Melly's true worth. There had been good times, happy times in Atlanta. But there had been as much pain as there'd been laughter.

Someday she would return, but as a visitor, not a traveler arriving home after a long journey. Even Charleston, with its salt scented breezes and sense of belonging wasn't her true home. Home was wherever Rhett and her children were. So long as they were together, they could call anywhere home.

Ella's carefree laughter drifted from the front of the boat. Jermore had taken charge of both children just after they'd boarded the boat. The fact that Penny was obligated to stay by their side was not lost on Scarlett.

Even now Penny was giggling at something Jermore had said. By the way she was gazing up at Jermore, admiration on her dusky face, Scarlett suspected that Penny would be pleased to find out just how much time the Butler family would be spending in the coming months traveling up and down the Ashley River on the launch.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

The house on the Battery was strangely still when they arrived home. Maingo had met them at the front door, his normally welcoming expression seemed forced and his greeting strained and formal.

"Something wrong Maingo?"

"Yes sir Mista Rhett. Maybe I could speak to you in the library?"

Rhett nodded. "Scarlett, will you and Penny manage the children. I'll be up as soon as I can."

As soon as the library door closed Scarlett asked, "Do you think anything serious is wrong?"

His sensual lips curled into a lazy half smile. "Knowing Maingo, it could be anything. More likely than not it's probably something to do with Toby."

"Toby?"

"Did the several large pieces of lawn that were torn up out front escape your notice on your way up the front walk?"

A rosy blush stained her cheeks and despite his best efforts to maintain a sincere and condemning express, Rhett grinned. "Should I make so bold as to presume you did indeed notice the craters on the front lawn?"

Her eyes were shimmering with ill concealed mirth. "I beg to differ," her slim shoulders shook with the laughter, "the lawn looked that way before Toby came here."

"It most certainly did not. It looks as though that dog is trying to broaden its horizons."

"How do you mean?"

"Because at the rate he is digging up my mother's front lawn, he will no doubt arrive in China any day now."

"I am sorry, if you see your mother before I do will you tell her to ask Carlen if she has any nephews that might be interested in repairing the lawn. I'll pay for it of course."

"That is very generous of you, but I should take half of it out of Rosemary's allowance. Correct me if I am wrong, but wasn't she supposed to keep an eye on that dog this weekend?"

Rhett saw fear bloom on her face, but misinterpreted it as pain. Dropping his light, teasing tone he touched her chin. "Maingo can wait, I'll take you upstairs."

"Truly, I'm fine. Just a little tired is all."

Sudden inspiration stuck him. "Why don't you come lie down on the bed in my old room while I pack for my trip?" Taking her elbow in his firm, but gentle grasp, he led her to the stairs. "As soon as I get you upstairs, I will send Penny down to tell Maingo I will speak to him before supper."

She nodded. "I'd like that."


	97. Partings

Leaning back against the mountain of pillows Rhett had arranged, Scarlett watched as he closed his bureau drawer. After settling her in his old room, Rhett had left her alone for several minutes to say a quick hello to Rosemary and to tell his mother they'd returned. From the look on his face when he came back to the room, Scarlett knew with a sinking feeling that something was wrong.

"What do you think went on while we were gone?" she asked, deciding to take the bull by the horns instead of waiting for it to trample her.

"I don't know," he replied as he tightened his valises straps.

"Well, what did Rosemary say when you spoke with her?"

"Damn little. I knocked on Rosemary's door to let her know we were home. She opened the door a crack and told me she had a headache and she'd come see you later. Then she shut the door in my face. It's as though she is barricaded in her room. She is lucky that she is twenty three and not thirteen?"

"How do you mean?"

"Because shutting the door in your brother's face is something a child does. If she were in fact a child, I would take her door off the hinges."

"That's ridiculous," she sputtered.

"Is it? My father had a favorite saying, a door is a privilege, not a right. I once shut mine a little too enthusiastically when I was about twelve or so. My father promptly had the door taken down and it was nearly a month before I got it back."

"How could your mother allow him to do such a thing? That is so demeaning."

"My father was in complete control of this family Scarlett. My mother deferred to him, always. When I was cast out, even then, there was nothing she could or would do. I was surprised, pleasantly so, that she slipped away to see me when I was blockading during the war."

"I'm sorry."

"For what love?"

"My father was so wonderful and my mother, she wasn't a happy woman, but she did love us. I was so lucky and you weren't."

"Don't be sorry. In a way, being reared the way I was made me. You've told me you envy how at ease I've always been with the children? It's because of my own father's example. I look to him as the perfect example of how not to be a father."

"The children are lucky to have you, so am I."

His expression softened. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. About Rosemary, she didn't say anything else, did she?"

The words were spoken with undisguised curiosity of tone combined with the barest trace of trepidation. Scarlett's color had risen and there was a queer, burning light in her eyes. And yet, despite the visible signs of worry, she waited for his reply in a controlled manner that bewildered him. Clearly there was some secret between Rosemary and Scarlett. Whatever it was, it was causing Scarlett needless worry. If he couldn't draw it out of either of them before the morning, he would root it out upon his return.

"What is it that you think she might have said?"

"I don't know," she cast about wildly for anything, some drifting lifeline to cling to. "I know she was a little cross with me, before we left we had a small, well I suppose you might call it a disagreement over all the dresses I ordered for Ella and me. She was afraid that I am going to put myself right back to where I started months ago. I think she thinks that under it all, I am still the same vain, gaudy woman who came here to chase after her brother in November."

He looked down at her, the former softness fading till his bland, inscrutable mask was once more back in its long held place. "You know, you're falling out of practice."

She looked puzzled, and then the faint puckered line that rippled the smooth flesh of her forehead appeared briefly. That was the only sign that she understood "I don't know what you mean," Scarlett said evenly.

"You used to be a much better liar." At the swift narrowing of her eyes, he laughed softly. "Please, don't misunderstand, your lie isn't an especially bad one. Actually, it has everything that should, by all rights, make it a very good lie. The grain of truth in its basis, the expression of puzzlement that you always wear so well, particularly when you are coming up with a really outrageous story. But, you've lost that look of exhilaration that you'd always get when you were sure that you'd pulled the wool down completely over my eyes. That is how I can tell you are lying to benefit someone other than yourself; you clearly didn't enjoy lying just now. Is it for Rosemary's benefit?"

When she had been a child Gerald had often laid traps for the river minks that would sometimes kill the white turkeys that had been his pride and joy. Once, while walking through the tall pine trees in the river swamp formed by the run off from the Flint River, they had come upon a mink caught in a trap. Until her dying day she would never forget the thrashing of the creature, caught but not killed by the sharp, glittering teeth of the trap. It had made a high, screeching noise as it attempted to rip itself from the trap's deadly jaws. Her father had sent her behind a lilac bush and told her not to look, but childish curiosity got the better of her. Just as she leaned out from behind the bush, her father brought the heel of his boot down on the animal's skull, cutting it off in mid wail.

She knew now the panic and despair that poor, doomed creature must have felt as it fought to free itself. She had been lying to him for two weeks already, time was quickly running out and in a strange way she knew that when at last she finally was released from the misery of the secret she was concealing from him, she would be grateful to at last be put out of the constant state of misery she was living in.

Guilt gnawed at her. Now was the time to tell him about his sister and her feelings for Doctor Cross. Except, he was already leaving for Atlanta in the morning. What if he became so angry he left on another trip? She could hardly stand his leaving for a week, if he were to take one of his trips now she couldn't bear it. Better to wait till he got his business out of the way. He'd already told her that he wanted to go over to the Landing when he returned. She'd tell him then and face the consequences. Perhaps if she could make him see that she'd put it off with the best of intentions he would understand.

"You're talking nonsense. Rosemary and I had a disagreement, maybe she's built it up to more that in was in her head. I'll speak to her later and sort it out."

He came to the side of the bed and leaned over her, resting his right hand near her hip. "You are lying to me, about what I don't know. The why also escapes me at present. I wish you'd tell me what's going on between you and Rosemary."

Her silence spoke volumes. She looked up at him, meeting his dark eyes with such misery that he shook his head. "If I didn't have meetings already scheduled, I would put off my trip a week or two and get to the bottom of whatever is going on here.." He brushed a kiss against her forehead before straightening up. "Do you want me to put this off? If you…"

"No, go. The sooner you've gone, the sooner you'll be back," she reasoned. She flushed slightly, but then added. "Are you sure you've packed everything you need? The weather's bound to be rotten this time of year in Atlanta."

He laughed. "My dear, it wouldn't be March if it wasn't drizzling non stop in Atlanta. I wouldn't recognize it if it wasn't."

She nodded. "There are things I may miss about Atlanta, the weather isn't one of them." She looked as though she wanted to say something, but couldn't quite find a place to begin. "Where will you be staying?"

"I'll be at the National. I've already wired ahead and I believe they confirmed the reservation this morning."

She picked at a snag in the fabric of the coverlet. "I didn't expect you'd want to stay at the house."

His face clouded. "I couldn't stay in the house on Peachtree Street, not alone. After Bonnie," he sighed, "It was hard enough being there when I had you and the children for company. I couldn't stay there with just a few servants. I've been thinking about what you said the other day, about the Peachtree House, you don't think you could live there again either, do you?"

"No, nor would I want to. It's such a gloomy place. I wanted it to be imposing; I never stopped to think how could a place that is so imposing ever feel like a home. Tara was always such a warm place to come home to. Your mother has made this house such a bright, cheerful place it's a pleasure to be here. When we were over at the Landing, I can see that it was once a house that made people happy to be in it. But our house, I never thought that with all the dark wood and red plush coverings we'd have to keep the curtains drawn to keep them from fading."

"So can I take that to mean the Landing won't be a replica of the Peachtree Street house?"

"No!" she declared emphatically.

Rhett smiled. "A great load has been taken from my mind."

She giggled, as he looked heavenward. "You're laughing?" he chastised. "I was worried, I thought to myself, what if she starts ripping out the molding my great grandfather had brought over from Scotland to replace it with gilt edging and cherubs. I assure you sweetheart, it was a concern that hasn't been off my mind since I agreed to let you redecorate the Landing."

Delicately she arched one brow. "Who said you could stop worrying? I only said that I was tired of the red plush and dark wood. This time I was considering aubergine and oak or maybe cherry wood and green velvet," her lips twitched as she kept back a grin "which do you think you might prefer?

With a wide gesture, he shrugged easily. "Why chose between the two? Upon careful consideration, how about emerald green and purple through the whole house?"

"Hmm," she tapped her fingernail against her lips, "That might be a little overwhelming, but I will certainly take heed of your suggestion and consider it."

"You do that."

She realized that this banter, while pleasant, was only temporary. There was still one other matter on her mind that she wanted to address before he left for Atlanta. If only she could somehow make him bring up that Watling creature. "I wish I could go with you, in case you get lonely, I'd be there." With the words past her lips, she flushed deeply and turned her attention back to the thread she was worrying from the coverlet.

He saw finally what was on her mind. Belle Watling had usually been the one who provided company when he'd needed it in the past. But that had only been when Scarlett hadn't wanted any part of him. Things were different now, and much as he wanted to tease her about her insecurities, he wanted nothing more than to reassure her. "This is new to me too Scarlett."

She raised her eyes. "What is?"

"Having you watch me pack for a trip, worrying about what I'm taking and …what I might need. "

"Oh," she said, ducking her head.

"And while I do appreciate your concern, is there something else on your mind, besides the perennially dismal March weather in Atlanta and the color scheme for the Landing?"

"Are you going to see Belle Watling while you're in Atlanta?" When he didn't answer in what she deemed an acceptable amount of time, she frowned. "Would you prefer I said nothing? I think I've a right to know, do you disagree?"

"I've known Belle a long time, she's been a good friend to me when I've needed one and she would be hurt if I returned to Atlanta after such a long absence without paying a call."

Belle might be hurt? What about her? Didn't he stop to consider that she, his wife, might be hurt if he went to visit his mistress? Hatred of Belle and anger went hand in hand, forcing angry words from her lips. "Will you be paying this call during daylight hours?" she murmured tartly.

Rhett did not immediately reply. Instead of the cold disdain he had always employed against her probing questions in the past, he simply said nothing while studying her with a pondering look of something that bordered on amusement. With a twinge of annoyance, she realized that she had completely given him the upper hand.

The side of his mouth quirked upward slightly. "You're jealous?" His smile was kind as he sat down beside her. "Scarlett, I am not going to sleep with her, I am going to have one drink, possibly two. I might even play a few hands of cards. If I win, I will buy you an incredibly vulgar, sparkly gift."

Old habits are incredibly hard to break. At the mention of a present Scarlett's face lit up with ill concealed excitement. "What sort of… Oh," she huffed, "I am not jealous," she protested.

Before he could raise his brow in disbelief, she sighed. "Go to the devil," she snapped, but without any real bitterness.

He chuckled gently, but his expression became grave. "No doubt I someday shall, if I reach Old Scratch first, I'll give him your regards." She shifted away from him, and he became contrite. "It's hard, being jealous, isn't it?"

She closed her eyes tightly, praying that he at least understood some of her fears and doubts. "Very." Opening her eyes, she met his sympathetic gaze with a watery smile. "I don't even imagine I should be jealous. Should I?"

"No."

"I wish you wouldn't go to see her. I want to demand that you stay away from her and threaten you with the most dire consequences if I hear you so much as smiled at Belle Watling, but I don't expect you'd take that very well."

He leaned forward, reaching out for her and she closed her eyes, wanting to memorize every single detail of their embrace to tide her over till he came back to her. Cupping his hand at the back of her head, Rhett drew her face to his, touching his lips gently to hers. It was a gentle kiss, poignantly tender and when he finally drew back it left in its wake a lingering sweetness that she knew would be enough.

"Rhett, I'll miss you so much."

"And I you. It's strange to think that you'll be waiting here for me, eager to see me again. At my advanced age, it is incredibly pleasant to experience new things."

"Advanced age, fiddle dee dee Rhett Butler, how you do go on. Besides, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but there have been many times I have eagerly awaited your return."

"When?"

She smiled furtively. "When you came back to Atlanta, that afternoon when I was sitting on the porch rocking Ella. Rhett, my heart just leapt into my throat when I saw you coming up the walk."

He threw back his sleek, dark head and laughed uproariously. "You lying little minx. Your heart was in your throat because you were afraid I was going to address the matter of Ashley Wilkes and the matter of the money I lent you to buy that mill."

"I was as nervous as a cat, I admit it. There's no use denying it. You made one stipulation when you loaned me that money, that I not use it to support Ashley Wilkes. I made him a partner in the mill, I guess we both know why, don't we?"

"She admits it at last."

"I do, freely. But, I did miss you while you were gone and I was glad to see you. I can remember everything about that day because it had been so long since I'd seen you. I remember that it was one of those Indian summer days that makes you long for the end of the winter. I even remember what I was wearing, do you?"

"A charcoal suit, white shirt, and black boots."

She hit him lightly on the shoulder with a loosely balled fist. "You aren't a bit funny. I meant what was I wearing?"

"You are a conceited thing if you think that I have filed away in my mind every outfit I've ever seen you in." She smiled smugly and he ran his finger lightly down her cheek. "I do remember though. You had on a green challis dress trimmed with yards and yards of black rickrack and a little lace cap. I remember you were sitting in a patch of sunlight and the light brought out the highlights in your hair. I remember wishing that it was my baby you were rocking and that I was coming home to you."

Scarlett lowered her lashes, humbled by his sincerity. "I thought you looked like a pirate, all you needed was an earring and a cutlass between your teeth."

With an exaggerated, leering look of lust, he skimmed his eyes up and down her body. "Is that meant to be a compliment?"

She tried to swallow a self-conscious giggle. "Well, yes and no. I also thought that pirate or not, you weren't going to slit my throat if I could help it."

"I can see why you would be concerned, it is a very beautiful throat." There

"Thank you."

"You are welcome."

With a soft sigh, she reached out and took his left hand. Rubbing his wedding band idly, she fought back tears while silently chastising herself. Tears again? Sue had always been the bawl baby of the O'Hara sisters. The silliest things would set her off into a bout of tears. Scarlett had never had a moment's patience for people who were given to crying tangents. If she couldn't rein in her rampant emotions, she would soon be just as bad as Sue. Struggling a little, she swallowed around the lump in her throat. "You still haven't told me how long will you be gone?"

"I have meetings on Tuesday and Wednesday. I have to see Henry Hamilton on Thursday about your stock and having the list of things you want for the Landing crated and shipped. I promise, if all goes well, I will try to catch the first train back Friday morning."

"A whole week," she mused.

"When I come back Scarlett, I am going to tell my attorney to start looking into some real estate for us."

"By real estate do you mean a house?" she asked, a look of serene joy settling over her features.

"I do. A place that will belong to all of us, as a family." He rose from the bed.. Offering her his hands, he easily brought her to her feet. "It's later than I thought. I have some papers I have to go over, but shall we say good night to the children first?"

Her green eyes danced with excitement. "That sounds wonderful."

"Which part?"

Kissing him lightly on the mouth, she whispered against his lips. "All of it."

PS Yes, true story I did infact lose my door, but I was sixteen. Now you know.


	98. All he ever wanted

Making their way down the hall, Scarlett spared a quick glance in the direction of Rosemary's door. Tomorrow, once Rhett was safely on his way to Atlanta, she would see to Rosemary. Something had happened while they were at the Landing, and no doubt it had something to do with Rosemary and Jason Cross.

Seeing her briefly falter, Rhett placed his hand gently on her lower back. In the dim lamp light in the hall, her hair reflected the light, seemingly trapping it in the long, glossy tumbling waves of her raven black hair.

The soft scent of roses and Florida water permeated the air between them. Catching her hand in front of the Ella's door, Rhett turned her to face him. She looked up at him in surprise, her eyes glowing like twin candles alight with the fires of desire.

"How is it possible that every time I look at you, you've grown even more beautiful?" He whispered admiringly.

She drew in a shuddering breath at the heated look of desire in his dark eyes. His lazy, intimate smile made her heart race even as he lowered his lips to her, kissing her with a thoroughness that nearly made her blush. After all, they were not behind closed doors but out in the hall where anyone who opened their door might see them.

Peering up shyly through her thick lashes, she gave him a quizzical look. After having spent the last several years barely exchanging so much as a peck on the cheek she was still somewhat unuse to his increasingly frequent shows of affection. "What was that for?" she asked.

Giving her an inscrutable smile, he shrugged off her curiosity. "Does a man need a reason to kiss his wife?"

There was something in his expression that dissuaded her from pressing the issue. He was happy, so completely happy that she couldn't destroy that happiness. She was afraid to question her current good fortune in the face of what was to come upon his return.

That was the inherent dangers of delaying the delivery of bad news. Every stolen minute you lived on was a minute taken from the jaws of disaster. But, eventually the jaws would snap shut and devour you. "I don't suppose he does."

He laid his hand against her cheek, his fingers instinctively seeking out the faint dimple in her otherwise flawless skin. One the train ride to New Orleans, years before, he had reveled in the opportunity to explore the taste and texture of every exposed inch of Scarlett's smooth skin. He had kissed her everywhere, her throat, the rise of her elegantly sculpted cheekbones, not even the tender skin at the base of her throat had escaped his attention. "I'll miss you."

Ella's still childishly high-pitched laughter rang out from the other side of the door, "All of you. Do you think they know that while I was gone last year, I never stopped thinking of them? I missed them both, very much."

His words struck her and she felt a tenderness toward him, bring forth a smile filled with her complete and total faith in his abilities as a father. How could this man doubt how good a father he'd been? Most of the women in Atlanta envied her when it came to the way Rhett doted on their children.

She had never even suspected that he might have questioned just how exceptional it was for a man to so wholeheartedly embrace children that were not his own. "Rhett, you're their father, the only one either of them has ever really known. Of course they know you missed them."

In all his life, never had anyone given him what she had, the gift of a family to love and in turn be loved by. Rhett Butler, the man who had never needed anyone was gone. A faint smile tugged at his lips. "You don't know how relived I am to hear you say that. It's just that I'm reluctant to go anywhere so soon after they've arrived."

"Who are you," she teased, "and what is it that you've done with my husband?"

"What do you mean?"

Her answer came with frank honesty, "The Rhett Butler I married goes where he wants, when he wants. He doesn't hem and haw about going on a gallivant. You'll be gone a few days, country to what you may believe; life will go on without you." Taking his hand from her face, he caught up her left hand and pressed a kiss just above her ring finger. "Provided it only has to go one without you for a few days," she amended softly.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

They found the children sitting on Ella's floor. Ella was carefully drawing out the bottom stick from a haphazardly piled mass of spillkins. When the door creaked slightly, Toby gave a tiny, chirping bark.

"Toby, hush," said Scarlett firmly. He immediately sat back down, his tail thumping half-heartedly against the floor. She laughed merrily at the dog's guilty expression. "You furry traitor," she chastised. "I see how it is, you've thrown me over for a younger woman."

Toby padded over to Ella, settling himself in her lap. She stroked his soft fur with vigor. "If I got a kitten mama, maybe Toby wouldn't like me so much," said Ella. She smiled winningly at her parents. "I love Toby, but he's your dog mama. I'm not scared anymore to sleep alone in my room, but maybe he still thinks I am." She snuggled her chin into Toby's back. "Do you think his feelings will be hurt if I got a kitten, I wouldn't want him to feel bad if I didn't let him sleep in my bed no more, because of the kitten, I'd still love him just the same even if we weren't sleeping in the same room."

The hot blood of mortification colored Scarlett's cheek as she saw immediately the parallel between Toby and the phantom kitten and Rhett and Ashley several years before.

Noticing her discomfort Rhett commented nonchalantly. "The circuitous logic of an eight year old, flawless in its simplicity," commented Rhett obliquely. "Ella, you are you're mother's child, never let anyone try and tell you differently."

Ella leaned toward her brother. "What's that mean?" she whispered.

Rhett laughed. "It means that I haven't gone deaf quite yet Ella. If you want a kitty, I am afraid you'll have to take that request up with your grandmamma."

"Oh," she beamed, "I just know she'll say yes. If she does, I'll name it Granny, if it's a girl, that is. If it's a boy, than I shan't."

"Who ever heard of a cat named Granny?" remarked Wade.

"You named the plow horse at Tara Stonewall Joe, that's a silly name for a horse," said Ella.

"I named him after Stonewall Jackson, he was a great general."

She shrugged, fondling Toby's ears. "You should have named him General, that's a better horse name."

Wade's lips tightened into a stern line. Scarlett could already see the rebuke forming in Wade's mind. If she didn't interrupt soon they would go on like this for ages. For two such normally well behaved children, Ella and Wade could bicker incessantly. "I think Stonewall Joe is a very clever name for a horse. We had one plow horse after the war that Uncle Ashley called Jeb because he was such a showoff. Sometime I think that horse thought he was a thoroughbred."

"Told you it was a good name," muttered Wade under his breath.

Ella screwed up her face. "Mama is just being nice," she whispered. Raising her voice she continued, "Maybe I'll name my kitten Katie after you mama. Katie is a good kitty name, isn't it?"

Not wanting to disappoint Ella, Scarlett still felt she should caution Ella to the fact that she might not be allowed a kitten in the already crowded house. "You seem sure that you'll be getting a kitten Ella, just don't go counting your kittens before you get them in a basket."

"That is a piece of wisdom I don't believe I've ever heard before," commented Rhett.

Her lips pursed, keeping back laughter. "Have you heard the expression, no pets without asking mother?"

He grinned. "I have indeed. But, if we are in our own home, that would make you the mother in question."

"Very neat, Mr. Butler," she commented dryly.

"Thank you."

Looking from his mother to stepfather, Wade could see that there was something more to their conversation. A terrible thought occurred to him; perhaps they were going back to Atlanta after all? While he missed his Hamilton relations, Wade felt no particular desire to return to the town that held such unhappy memories for his family. "Are we going to go back to Atlanta?" asked Wade woefully.

"Not anytime soon," replied Rhett as he reached down to muss the boy's hair. "I'm going to be back in a week, and then, outside the Landing, I think we'll be settling here in Charleston for a spell. What would you say to that?"

Wade sighed contentedly, if Uncle Rhett said they were staying in Charleston, they were. "I'd say I think I'd like that a lot. Uncle Rhett, are you going to go to our house, the one in Atlanta, I mean?"

"I could," he offered slowly, somewhat reluctant to visit the house. "Is there something you'd like from your room?"

Smiling brightly, Wade nodded. "My father's sword and my grandfather's book of Texas Campaign maps, from the rangers. You know the one, it's probably still on my desk. Would you really bring them? If it wouldn't be any bother," he added politely.

"Yes," said Rhett. Why hadn't he thought of that before? He should have had someone at the house packing the things that mattered to the children. "I will go to the house and personally see to the packing of Charles's sword and your grandfather's book of campaign maps. I can bring them back with me on the train."

"That's wonderful. Thank you," he exclaimed happily, "thank you so much, Uncle Rhett."

"You're welcome." He turned his attention to Ella. "What about you sweetheart, is there anything you want from the house in Atlanta?"

She bit her thumbnail thoughtfully. "Yes." Fidgeting slightly, she began to gnaw her thumbnail in a distracted manner that had always annoyed Scarlett. Now, after taking the time to get to know her daughter, she understood that Ella was giving something a great deal of consideration. It was silly though; there was no need for her to lose herself so deeply in thought. Whatever it was she wanted, Rhett could bring or ship, depending on the size of the object.

"Well," asked Scarlett, trying to keep a note of impatience from her voice. "What would you like Ella, don't keep Uncle Rhett waiting?"

She withdrew her finger from her mouth. "I don't think Uncle Rhett could bring them."

"Them?" Scarlett looked at Rhett to see if he knew what Ella could possibly mean. He shrugged slightly.

Rhett crouched down next to his stepdaughter. "Go on Ella," he said encouragingly, "at least tell me who they are. If I can't manage on my own, I could have whatever it is shipped here."

She frowned again; clearly still undecided about the possibility of having her wish fulfilled. "I don't know if you can bring them here, but I want Jack and Jill. I miss them an awful lot and I want them to come here, but they are very big so I guess they can't come live here with us."

Wade shook his head. "Ella," he said, chastisement in his voice, "Uncle Rhett can't bring Jack and Jill all the way to Charleston! Where would we put them? They are just too big."

Ella pursed her lips. "I can't help it if I miss playing with them. And anyway, you don't know everything. Maybe Uncle Rhett can figure out something, he's awful smart," she finished, smiling up at Rhett winningly.

Scarlett frowned at the disapproval in Wade's voice. While she knew that Wade had had to take on a lot of responsibility when it came to Ella while they were at Tara, there was still no call for him to be so brusque with her. What business was it of his if Ella wanted some of her dolls from the house in Atlanta? Just which ones she meant, Scarlett couldn't say. Knowing the names Bonnie and Ella had bestowed on their various playthings had never been something she'd concerned herself with before.

Racking her brain, she finally thought she could place the dolls in question. Two rather large china dolls had been in the playroom could have been the aforementioned Jack and Jill. They were a little ungainly to have to transport by train, but not so large as to be that much of a chore.

Yes, she thought, those had to be the ones Ella meant. Even if they weren't, how could she admit to Ella that she had no ideas which of her dolls were which? Surely Rhett would know the dolls she meant, he always did.

Not waiting to correct Wade in a manner that might hurt his feelings, she tried to keep her voice neutral. "Wade, if Ella wants her dolls so much, I am sure Uncle Rhett could figure out something, couldn't you Rhett?"

A look of confusion crossed Ella's face. "But Jack and Jill…," began Ella before Rhett swiftly cut her off.

"Won't be any trouble to transport," finished Rhett smoothly, coming to his feet with a twinkle in his dark eyes.

"Uncle Rhett, you'll bring them here?" said Ella gleefully. She sprang to her feet and Rhett bent obligingly as the little girl threw her arms around his neck. "I can't wait to see them again."

Wade rolled his eyes in a fair impersonation of Scarlett at her most irritated. "I think this is a bad idea," he muttered, watching his mother for the reaction to Ella's request that was obviously not coming.

Rhett was also watching Scarlett carefully. That was pure Scarlett, never willing to openly admit a failing, she would not confess to not knowing what had really asked for from the Atlanta house.

Scarlett smiled benignly. Really, she thought, all this fuss over dolls. "Now Wade, if your sister wants her dolls, well, how hard can it really be to get them here?"

Looking at Rhett, Wade shrugged his thin shoulders. "Pretty hard, I bet," he answered honestly.

With a wink in Wade's direction, Rhett tickled Ella, smiling as she giggled appreciatively. "Never underestimate the resourcefulness of a man on a mission, I'll figure out something," said Rhett.


	99. I'm Rhett Butler bitch

The penetrating dampness in the air had already begun to seep through his greatcoat in the short time it had taken him to make his way out of the depot. He had traveled light, bringing only a suitcase and his valise, as he did not intend to spend a second longer than necessary in the light, drizzling dampness that was Atlanta in March.

As he emerged from beneath the depot's overhang a smattering of raindrops struck his face and he flinched reflexively. He longed to be back in Charleston. The weather had been balmy and fair when he left. As he had walked to King Street in the gathering light of dawn, he had wanted nothing more than to spend the day with his family. He wanted to take his children on a shopping spree and then spend the evening alone with Scarlett. Instead, he was in the one town that was guaranteed to make him long to be with her twice as much as any other place on earth.

_She had looked so forlorn that morning. Insistent on rising just before dawn to see him off, she had stood on the doorstep of his mother's house with tears gleaming in her beautifully expressive emerald eyes. _

_"I'll miss you," she'd whispered against his neck as he'd embraced her that last time. _

_"And I will miss you," he replied, stroking his hand up and down her back. "I will be back in a few days, stay out of trouble," he added as an afterthought. _

_She nodded, not trusting her voice. He could see in her eyes that she was still troubled, concerned by the memories of his last leave taking. But it had been a different man that had softly told her that he didn't give a damn about what happened to her. The man he'd become during the last few weeks did not want to leave her side._

_The man he'd become, he thought, was not a completely accurate description of his current state of being. If he wished to strive for accuracy the man he'd always been beneath his carefully cultivated façade of sarcasm and aloof diffidence had finally emerged, set free by being so completely loved._

A gust of wind stirred some refuse on the planked walkways. The wind was picking up slightly, groaning overhead in the eaves of the buildings along Richard Street. It was a damp, chilly wind cutting to the very marrow of his bones. It was just as well that Scarlett hadn't accompanied him. Her joints were still stiff in the morning and again in the evening when they would retire for the night. She had admitted to him that any change in the weather caused her hip and lower back to ache over the last two weeks. She was better off in Charleston, or so he continued to tell himself.

There had been a brief moment of hesitation at the station on King Street. His foot had hovered briefly over the threshold of the private compartment he'd reserved on the train. Could he delay his trip, at least until Scarlett's condition had improved and she could accompany him? The answer was of course no, not if he wanted to secure Sue Ellen's share of Tara before their anniversary.

The National was only two blocks from the depot and it only took him a few minutes to make his way there. He had just finished checking in and was instructing the bellman to take his bags up when a young Negro boy of about twelve addressed him.

"Mista, is you Cap'n Butler?"

"Who'd like to know," replied Rhett, taking in the boy's finely cut clothes and polite manners with an appraising eye.

"I'm Prophet, I work for Miz Watling. She had onea the 'hops lookin' out for you to sign in. Soon as you did, he came running to tell Edward to bring over her rig. Miz Watling figured you wouldn't want to be walkin' to see her in the wet. She's at her new place and she wanted to make sure you'd find her."

He grinned. That was Belle for you, he thought fondly, presumptuous and yet still all the while possessing a considerate heart. "If Miss Watling has gone to all that trouble on my behalf," said Rhett as he made his way to the door, "then we'd better not keep the lady waiting."

As the carriage rolled to a stop before a large three story building, Rhett drew back the curtain to look at Belle's new establishment. It was more palace than saloon, occupying a corner building. There were two Negroes at the door; each splendidly attired in fine black trousers, dinner jackets and white tie. One of them quickly came forward to open Rhett's door. "Mister Butler," he intoned importantly, "Good evening, Miss Watling has been waiting for you."

Calculating the cost of the heavy oak doors with panels of leaded stained glass and gleaming brass hardware, he estimated their cost to be in the realm of several hundred dollars. They were similar in style to his house on Peachtree Street, though he'd never repeat that to Scarlett. She wouldn't be pleased to have her former pride and joy compared to his former mistress's house of ill repute. But from the general opulence of the establishment, it was more that apparent that the business of pleasure was booming.

From across the crowded gaming and drinking throng of Atlanta's elite came Belle. Her hair was still its customary shade of blazing red, but for the first time in the whole of their acquaintance, she seemed diminished somehow. She hadn't aged significantly, in actuality shed aged only a little in the last few years. She wore her age well, as he'd always suspected she would. In his estimation, she must be nearly thirty-seven, but she still was a handsome woman that time had been kind to.

Belle had never been guaranteed a space in the world, so she had carved out her own niche and filled it with laughter, good times, and beneath it all a compassionate heart. She had never told him where she had come from, he knew next to nothing of her people and yet he could see them in the condescending expression of amusement she tossed his way as various men called to her to share a game, a drink, or something more intimate. "Look at them all," she said with a look that needed no words to express her thoughts, "none of them would speak to me on the street, but here they're all my best friends."

She met him in the bar, her face loosing its contrived expression of sultry good humor. A real smile of pure happiness broke across her face even as she extended her hands toward him. "Rhett." Belle was all but purring as she grasped his hands in her own. "It's real good to see you looking so fit." She gave his hands a light squeeze. "I was worried about you darlin, but you look as handsome as you ever did." She winked, "And then some."

There was something different about her besides her appearance. An edge to her that he'd never seen before. She had been expecting him, he knew that, but she wasn't glad to see him, not really. He cursed inwardly; he was too tired to want to deal with anything more than a drink and some causal conversation. He should have made an excuse to the boy at the hotel and stopped by later during his stay in Atlanta. It was too late now; the best thing to do would be to sit down for a drink, then take his leave. Sliding his hands from hers, he smiled politely. "Miss Watling. You're looking well."

Her brow skidded up. "Miz Watling is it? Why so formal honey?" She glanced around the teeming bar area. Several patrons were studiously avoiding looking in their general direction, one of them the managing director of the bank Scarlett did business at. "Ah, I see. Back on that straight and narrow path hon..I mean Captain Butler?"

He laughed. "I wouldn't necessarily say that. My path is bound to have a few more twists and turns than most other people."

She grinned, her good humor once again restored. "Come on upstairs. We'll have a drink or maybe we'll…" She placed her palm on his forearm and stroked his bicep lightly.

"Let's find a table down here and catch up, shall we?" suggested Rhett.

She withdrew her hand and nodded.

Gesturing to one of the girls tending bar Belle held up two fingers and pointed toward the back of the room. "Shall we?" she said, mimicking him.

"Lead the way."

After they were settled at a table at the back of the house, Belle poured out a generous glass of whiskey for Rhett. "No use denying it, things are different, ain't…aren't they?" She looked away, the party was going on around them, but she didn't care. Rhett had come to say something, and she suspected that it was goodbye. "You're a smart man Rhett so I guess you know that I mean between you and me

He took his glass and swirled it contents before taking a drink. That was what was different about her; her mannerisms had changed. Not so much so that she wasn't the Belle Watling he'd always known, but just enough to be noticeable. Who was she changing for? Certainly not for him.

They had been lovers over the years, but never in love. She was a friend and he was certain she counted him as a friend. There had never been any need to be anything other than what she was. At least, he had never needed her to be anything different.

"As you say, things are different Belle." He looked her in the eye, honesty radiating from them. "I don't want to lose your friendship, if I can help it. But I can't maintain it if it gives any rise to gossip. I don't want to see my family hurt by our continued association."

Belle gazed at him shrewdly. "What a difference a year makes," she commented, her tone somewhat sad. "When you hightailed it out of here last year, I didn't expect you'd ever set foot back in this town. Then at New Year's, when you came to keep up your end of things with Scarlett, you spent most of your time here instead of with your wife."

He finished off his drink with one quick, practiced snap of the wrist. "I know I did. That was wrong of me. It hurt her more than I realized at the time." He slid his glass toward her. "Or maybe I did realize, but I wanted to see her hurt. I wounded her deliberately just to see her in pain. Because I was in pain and I wanted to know I wasn't alone."

"Rhett Butler admitting he was wrong? This must be the end of days. If you keep it up, I am going to tear off to the nearest church and repent my wicked ways. 'Course, I doubt it would do much good."

"I wouldn't worry too much, you've a kind heart. I'm sure that'll go a long way when you stand before Saint Peter."

"Bah," she snorted before refilling his glass and pouring a second for her self. "Why'd I want to get into heaven? Anyone worth a damn who's a lick of fun is going to hell anyway."

He laughed appreciatively. "That's an astute observation. I'm sure there's a place just waiting for me. Are you sure its toil in the fiery pit for you?"

"It was thoughts of spending eternity in the company of Mrs. Meade and her cronies that makes me doubt that heaven is for me in the first place. Speaking of heaven, why'd you write me about Patty Lynch? That was ages ago."

A wolfish grin shaped his lips. "Thank you for reminding me, I'd been meaning to thank you for the information you sent me. Your Patty Lynch climbed quite high in the hierarchy of the Catholic Church. He's now an archbishop, did you know that?"

"I don't reckon I did. He couldn't have been all that happy to hear my name."

"On the contrary, he spoke well of you."

Her brow shot up in amusement. "I doubt it, more like he double talked till it sounded as though he approves of me. I was thinking, the only reason I could come up with for you wanting to know anything about Patty Lynch was blackmail fodder. Are you bent on getting one of the Catholic things they give instead of a divorce?"

He gestured toward his glass and she filled it obligingly. "An annulment? No. I needed leverage with the good archbishop for my own reasons."

"Which are?" she asked.

"My own."

"You aren't going to tell me, are you?"

"No," he answered succinctly.

His dark face gave nothing away but it took several minutes for Belle to realize that he really wasn't going to divulge his need for information on Pat Lynch.

"Keeping secrets? We'll that's fine and see if I give a good goddamn in the bargain. I don't believe that you want to stay friendly with the likes of me Captain Butler. If you'd like to leave as soon as you finish your drink, I'll understand."

"Belle melodrama doesn't suit you."

"It don't? No, I guess that maybe it doesn't," she corrected her earlier error in speech. "I generally don't bother with it anyhow, it's more suited for spoiled, pampered brats who've got more temper than brains."

He knew she was alluding to Scarlett. Baiting him to see just where he stood with his once estranged wife. For old times sake, he felt that she deserved a warning. But a as in one was the key word. Friends or not he had meant what he'd promised Scarlett. Any one who insulted her in his hearing would not do it a second time. "Careful Belle, the ice you're skating on is thin. I wouldn't want to see you fall through."


	100. Carabelle Mayes Scott

A smirked contorted her rouged lips. "Are you sure? The way you've been acting since you stepped through the doors, I don't know if you'd haul me back onto the ice, or put your heel on my head to push me under."

He shrugged dismissively. "I meant what I said before. You and I have known each other for a long time."

She tossed her head, her red curls tumbling about her ears. "So what's that worth, really? People change. I think you have, maybe not for the better either."

He leaned across the table, his eyes dangerous with a light in them that she remembered from the night he left her office after that foul little man that had been staying with the Wilkes's had come to the old saloon. "Alright, how about this for a bidding and lasting tie between us, your son is my second cousin and my ward. No matter what changes, that never will."

"You and I do go back quite a ways," she conceded begrudgingly.

He sat back, appeased by her show of deference. "I just need you to understand that things are different than what they once were. Belle, it's never been like this before. I love Scarlett and she loves me." He pushed the glass aside. "I can't jeopardize that. I won't jeopardize that."

She smiled faintly, torn between disappointment over what she knew to be the end of their friendship and her deep-seated fondness for Rhett. "Did you finally win her over or was it the other way 'round?"

He shook his head, giving her a boyishly charming smile that peeled the years from his face. "I think we met somewhere in the middle."

"The middle's usually a good place to met, if you have any meeting to do. Or at least," she smiled, "that's what I've been told." Her expression became guarded. Have you seen Eustace at all?"

He felt her discomfort at asking for his cousin. He remembered the debacle the two had found themselves in nineteen years before. Belle had been the seventeen-year-old mistress of his cousin, Eustace. He had moved her into his rooms in New Orleans the year before while at the medical college. But, after having received an ultimatum from their Grandfather Butler, Eustace had explained to Rhett that he could no longer keep Belle nor was there much he could do for their child. The cousins had always been close, but they were two entirely different people. Rhett had never had any doubts that he could live outside his family. Eustace needed to be a part of the Butlers; his entire identity was based on being a Butler.

Upon their first meeting, Rhett had taken an immediately liking to his cousin's soon to be discarded mistress and had offered to give her a place to stay for the time being. He owned a small house in a less than savory part of town and there would be no one to judge the propriety of his having a young woman, heavy with impending child, staying with him.

Knowing that Rhett was the one who meet his obligations made Eustace melancholy. With his bastard child's future welfare weighing heavy on his mind, Eustace had raided his savings and pawned his collection of rare first editions and folio printings that had taken him years to acquire. He gave Rhett the entire sum with the instructions that the money was to be used to give his unborn child some sort of helping hand in life, whether as tuition or a dowry.

His cousin hadn't wanted to abandon Belle, but he could never turn his back on the family. He had gone to medical school because Grandfather Butler ordered him there. Now he had once again been given orders, rid your self of your whore and her bastard or suffer the consequences.

"You saw him, didn't you," she asked quietly.

"I did, last week after mass."

Suddenly turning shy, she gazed off into the crowd. "Did he mention Ro…"

Rhett shook his head swiftly. "We never speak about the boy. It's better that way."

Belle bristled defensively. "He has a name you know, I hate when you just brush it off as though I named him boy. He's not even a boy any more, his nearly a grown man. "

"I know he has a name and you know why I don't like mentioning it. I never want anyone to be able to connect you with him. He is doing well. He's always been ahead of his peers in most subjects. He is well regarded and accepted by the sons of some of the south's most important men. In another year, he'll be up north at the school of his choice. I don't know if I told you that, He is considering Harvard, in Boston."

Guilt was etched into the lines corners of her eyes as she winced. "I have a secret Rhett. Not one that you're going to like either. You know how I've wished I could see him."

The guilt in her expression moved him and he felt instant compassion for her well up. It couldn't have been easy to leave her child behind, even if she knew it was to leave him to a better life. "That isn't a secret Belle, I know you want to see him, it just isn't…."

Belle rested her palms on the table for a moment and when she lifted them again, he could see that their shadowy outlines had been left imprinted in sweat on the shiny oak tabletop. "I've been writing to him for nearly a year now. I told him that I was his long lost aunt, Avery. We have been corresponding over the last year and I decided to go and see him. In fact I went to New Orleans two months ago."

"Why? Why would you do such a thing?"

Her voice was loud to start, attracting attention, but soon she dipped into an angry whisper. "You can't guess, I wanted to see him. I wanted to see what my son looks like, to tell what sort of man he is. He's a real good one too. Better than me, better than Eustace. He's got a spine, which I can' t say for the man who gave him to me."

"Belle! You are going to destroy him. He's no fool, he will figure out eventually who you are and what you are to him."

"Don't use that disappointed voice with me, it don't work and you know it," she snapped angrily.

"What did he say when he saw you?"

"He didn't see me, I wanted to, but it wasn't the right time. I went to look at some things. I didn't even tell him I was coming. When I got there I tricked myself out like a widow and threw about 100 miles of crepe all over a hat so no one could see my face, but mostly I was worried about my hair. If he remembers me at all, what I look like, it would be my hair 'cause he loved how bright it was when he was a little mite."

"You made a deal with me and Eustace. Do you remember what it was you agreed to? I supported you until Roman was five and ready to go to school, after that you were to never contact him again."

"You let me keep him alright, then you told him I died," she said, accusation and disgust were present in her hostile glare.

"It was the only story that made sense. When he was small, we told him that his father had died before he was born and that I was his father's cousin's cousin, which made me his very distant relation. When it was time to part the two of you, it seemed easier if he was an orphan and I was the only family left to oversee his care? Would you have preferred that I explained to him why it was he had a bachelor for a guardian when he had a mother who was alive and well?"

She bit her lip, an angry flush appearing under her paint. "I was eighteen when he was born and twenty-two when you and Eustace convinced me to let him go. If I had been smarter, I would have told Eustace to go to the devil and take you along for company."

"You wouldn't have and we both know it. What kind of life would a child have in a whorehouse?"

"You think I would have raised my son in a whorehouse? We've known each other for years and you'd say that? Shows what you know," she snarled.

There was fury in Rhett's voice at her ingratitude. "He went to one of the most exclusive school in the whole of Louisiana. He is going to make something of himself," he softened, his words becoming less harsh. "that's all because of you Belle. You had the courage to let him go. You loved him enough to give him a better life without you than he could have ever had with you."

She was not swayed. "Those are some real pretty words. You know if your cousin had any backbone, he could have stood up to your family and stayed with me and Roman. He was a doctor and he could have been a real good one if he had tried. He could have set up a practice and we'd have been happy. But he couldn't. They said frog and he jumped. He left me with you like I was a puppy who needed a new master and not the woman he was in love with. I know I was a whore Rhett. I don't have the brains you got, but I know what I am… What I was. I know that I didn't have much to give Roman, but it don't make missing him any easier."

"I know what it is to miss a child Belle," he reminded her in a gentle, but distant voice.

At the allusion to Bonnie, she became immediately contrite. "Honey, I know you do. You of all people know. I don't mean to rip up at you, you've done a lot for Roman and me. I'm sorry I shouted, I didn't mean it."

"At least you know that somewhere Roman is a happy, healthy young man who's far too handsome for his own good. Hold on to that whenever you doubt that we all did the best for him."

"I know we did what was best then, but writing him was the best thing for now. I'm selling up, Rhett. In a year. I am going up to Boston to be near Roman. He was so happy when I wrote that to him, he's glad not to be going alone. He said that he's been alone for a long time and it'll be good to have family near him."

"Belle, what are you going to do in Boston?"

"Not a thing except get to know my long lost nephew. I have to get myself used to thinking of him as my nephew, it not easy, but I will. I have plenty of money, I'll get even more when I sell up this place and the saloon. There's money from the investments you made for me. I am going to set myself up as a widow from Tennessee. I hired one of those who'd you call them, Pinkertons to settle everything."

"A Pinkerton? You've put a great deal of thought into all of this."

She nodded. "I did. There's a whole trail of paper to back up that I am what I say I am. I even had two plaques put up in St. Louis Cemetery, one for his daddy who I called Edward Scott and another for Carabelle Mayes Scott. I went to see them when I went to New Orleans and before he leaves for Boston; I'm going to take Roman. We'll say a proper goodbye to his parents and then head up north." She smiled softly. "I looked at that marker Rhett and felt, I don't know what you'd call it…"

He saw what it was she was searching for. "Free?"

"Yeah. That's just it. I was once Carabelle Mayes. That was before Belle Watling. When I leave the south I'll never use either or those names again. Won't that just take the cake?" She grinned.

"In Boston, when I pay a call to Roman, do I know you?"

She shook her head, her bell earrings tinkled merrily. "No. It'll be easier to remember things if you and I start from scratch. Besides, you're only his dead daddy's distant cousin. We wouldn't have had too many run-ins."

"Well, it will be a pleasure to meet you when the time comes," he teased.

"Not as much of a pleasure as it used to be," she said with a wink. "Speaking of pleasures not being what they used to be, how's Scarlett?"

It was a question asked without malice and Rhett answered it in the spirit it was offered. "Good. Happy. Beautiful. I've only been gone for a day and I find that I miss her already."

"You know that I've never given a tinkers damn for her, not after the way's she's treated you over the years, but if she makes you happy, I'm happy for you."

"Thank you for that Belle. It's appreciated."

"You not coming back this way again, are you?"

"Not too often. I'll see you before you go up North, I think we're going to sell the Peachtree Street house."

She whistled appreciatively. "Big step."

"We're cutting ties Belle."

"Will you keep in touch?" she asked, her voice contained a low plaintive note that he'd only heard in her voice once before.

On the night he'd taken Roman under the pretense that the boy's mother was ill and had to rest, Belle had grabbed his arm and asked softly, "You'll look after him, won't you?" He had nodded, shifting the sleeping child in his arm. With one final kiss on his smooth brow, Belle had bestowed the most precious gift that she could give her child; she let him go.

"I will Belle." He lifted her glass and toasted, "To Carabelle Mayes Scott, rest in peace."

She nodded. "She will."


	101. Things best left unsaid

**For Dani**

**Egress Disapatos**

They sat on stitching on the front porch, awaiting the arrival of Emily so they could go to Sally's together for her at home day. Several years ago, when she had been building the mills, Scarlett would have rolled her eyes at sitting among the other worthy matrons and proper young ladies and enjoying their company, but it was pleasant to sit among the other women of Charleston society and discus ideas for charity fundraisers and ways to improve the living conditions for the less fortunate.

She reveled in an environment where she was admired for being both practical and innovative when it came to ways to raise funds. Her head for business was a valuable asset to these women; many of who hadn't known how much a pound of sugar or a measure of dry goods had cost before the war. Their world had changed dramatically, and many of them struggled to come to terms with the idea that knowing how to bargain and count how many pennies were in a dollar was not beneath them as gently reared ladies.

And of course, there was always gossip. Gossip, Scarlett had come to rediscover, could be very entertaining indeed when one's self was not the topic.

She had to be careful to step lightly. It was so strange to be welcome again. She could not chance making a careless error that would see her once more ostracized. She understood now why Rhett had said he would crawl on his belly to every old cat in Atlanta for Bonnie's sake. Wade had made a friend of Sally's nephew and another young man whose family connections had escaped her. There would be no more carpetbagger's society for the Butler's. Wade and Ella were both handsome, well behaved children. They were making social attachments now that would see them through to adulthood and she could not ruin it for them. And perhaps someday soon there would be other children whose well being and social standing she had to consider.

Wanting to continue to make headway among Charleston's ladies that mattered, she had contained several urges towards dresses that would have been completely unsuitable. Finally she settled on a soft almond colored muslin day dress. Surprisingly, without any prompting on her part, Rosemary had come down wearing a flattering, buttercup yellow dress that Scarlett had handed down to her. It was modest and pretty, but somewhat cloyingly so. Still, it suited Rosemary's slightly dusky complexion and she had already commented that she might even look for a bonnet to match.

Scarlett put down her embroidery hoop. Rhett had only been gone a day and it already felt as though it had been a year since she'd last laid eyes on him. The week could not pass quickly enough. Every hour seemed to drag by in a relentless fashion that wearied her. But lately, everything exhausted her.

She assumed that it was from the accident, but a little corner of her heart hoped. Hoped desperately because she remembered the exhaustion she'd experienced the first few months she'd carried Ella. They had made love twice. From previous experience it didn't even generally require more than once for her to conceive. It was still far to early, and her practical mind knew it, but still her heart dared hope.

Her mind was made up, when he came home, she would lay all the cards out on the table. She would admit to her role in furthering Rosemary's relationship with Doctor Cross and then…and then he would strangle her.

She had worked herself into a tight corner this time. In many ways, tighter than any she'd ever occupied before. If she told Rhett what she had done, he would be angry. She flinched at the audacity of her inner self. If he were only angry, that would be a blessing. The people who write dictionaries will have to come up with an entirely new word to define what Rhett is going to be when he finds out, she thought, her forehead wrinkling slightly with worry.

"Are you thinking about Rhett?" asked Rosemary, as she viciously stabbed her needle into the piece of fancy work she was slowly mangling.

This is all your fault, thought Scarlett conveniently neglecting her original find Rosemary a suitor scheme. "Yes, among other things."

Rosemary yanked a piece of embroidery floss from the fabric, frowning. "Do you miss him? You can't really, it's only been a day."

"Of course I miss him," she replied softly.

"Have you always missed him, when he's been away?"

"I suppose so." She picked up the hoop once more and began to outline a leaf in a soft, grass green floss. "It's hard to put a finger on when I first realized that when he wasn't around I could hardly wait till the next time I'd see him. During the war he was always coming and going so unexpectedly. I never knew how long he'd be away, so I would come to find myself watching for him to come up the front walk of my Aunt Pitty's. Then afterwards, when I was at Tara, every so often I'd think of him and wonder how he was." She smiled self-consciously. "I wondered if he thought of me. I've known your brother for years and I'm embarrassed to admit that it's only in the last year or so that I've come to realize that I missed him because I loved him."

"He only ever went to Atlanta to see you. He told me so." The radiant smile Scarlett bestowed on Rosemary was infectious. Despite being aggravated by her throbbing finger that had fallen victim to numerous punctures due to her poor needlecraft skills, Rosemary smiled back. "He told me that every time he boarded the train to leave, he swore it would be for the last time. Until the next time, that is. He was going to go and see you, if you hadn't come in November, he planned on spending Christmas with you and your children."

He would have come home eventually. Even if she hadn't come to him, he had still planned to make a trip to see her. It was a relief, and it only reaffirmed what she knew deep inside. She owed him the truth about Rosemary and Doctor Cross. When he came back, she would confess her involvement, no matter how much she dreaded the consequences.

"Thank you for telling me that. It shouldn't matter now, but it still somehow does. It makes me happy to know that this all isn't just because of the accident, that he still cared for me, even before that."

"Well, you're welcome, but you don't need to thank me, it is the truth. I didn't know if he'd tell you, but you deserve to know. At least, I think you deserve to know. He likes to pretend that if you hadn't come, he would have never bent an inch and that just isn't so. He missed you." She looked at the piece of fabric with utter dismay. "This is the sorriest excuse for a handkerchief that I've ever seen." She held it up and Scarlett could see the pulls in the fabric from where Rosemary had repeatedly picked out the floss.

"Keep at it," encouraged Scarlett, "It takes time to master embroidery. It isn't really one of my favorite pursuits, but I find that it's something to do while my mind wanders."

"I don't want to master it. If I were being truthful, I think it's a pointless waste of time and if I allowed my mind to wander, I'd return to find that I'd stitched this handkerchief to my sleeve."

Laughing appreciatively, Scarlett shook her head. "Then why are you bothering? I had actually wondered when I saw that you were starting a project."

Rosemary glanced up, studying Scarlett's face, she replied carefully. "Its for Jason."

Slowly she raised her chin and meeting Rosemary's eyes, she murmured softly, "How… lovely. I'm sure he like what ever it is you make."

"There won't be anything to like if I can't manage a monogram." She began to shrug, but caught herself. "I needn't rush, he's away for who knows how long."

The air was still except for the occasion buzz of some distant cicadas. The sound reminded her of long spring and summer days on the front porch at Tara. She had never even realized that she had hardly ever, if at all, heard them in Atlanta. She could remember hearing their buzzing on that warm, April afternoon when the Tarlatan twins had told her that Ashley was to marry Melly. She had heard them the afternoon she had shot the Yankee soldier. Now, she could hear them and it seemed fitting that their high pitched whine filled the air. During the most disastrous moments of her life, they had been there, and this moment seemed to qualify as complete disaster.

"Scarlett?" Rosemary waited expectantly.

Her mouth was dry as she spoke, attempting to keep her tone light, she asked, "Where has Doctor Cross gone?"

"To Colombia. A former patient of his took sick; she's most likely going to die. One of her nurses sent a telegram asking him to come and he felt it his duty as a physician to go and offer her what ever comfort he could."

"How do you know all this Rosemary? You haven't been to see him alone again, have you?"

"No. Tia, his housekeeper brought me a note this morning. Penny brought it up to me. They're cousins, did you know that?"

"I didn't, but then again, I don't know all that much about Penny, I only know that she is Carlen's niece."

"He wrote that he doesn't know how long he'll be gone. It's silly I know but I miss him already. It'll seem like forever till he comes home again." Tossing the badly tangled skein of thread on the table, Rosemary leaned forward. "Mother and I had a fight this weekend while you were away"

Rhett had been sure that something had happened between his mother and sister during their visit to the Landing. It looks as though he was right, she thought. "What about?"

"Whether to plant hollyhocks or marigolds this summer," she replied churlishly. "Don't be so deliberately dense, what else could we have quarreled about but Jason Cross. I wanted to talk to you yesterday, but you didn't wake up from your nap until suppertime and then you were busy with the children."

A weight pressed down on her chest, momentarily suffocating her. Sweet Jesus, did Miss Eleanor know that Rosemary had been to see Jason Cross without a chaperone? Did she know that Scarlett knew what had been going on? If she did, she would no doubt be angry with Scarlett, justifiably so. She had set this in motion by meddling where she shouldn't have. Having so little in the way of extended family, Scarlett had been naïve when it came to just how deeply the hatred between the Cross and Butler families ran.

When Melly had taken her side over India's concerning the incident at the mill she had forced everyone around her to choose a side. And people had, all the while hating Scarlett for being the root of the matter. She had sadly looked down the generations and known that she had been the cause of a rift that would outlive her and India.

The animosity between the Butlers and the Cross families was what that falling out would look like in a hundred years. The weight of her previous deeds weighed on her soul, and she knew that she would be called upon one day to answer for them all. "She knows that you have feelings for Jason, does she know that you've seen him alone?"

"No and I don't expect you'd tell her. It would only upset her and what good would that serve. She wants to ship me off to an abbreviated grand tour. I refused and she became angry." Rosemary's face clouded and her brows drew together as one side of her mouth went down in a violent frown. "Then we had further words and she slapped me."

Scarlett was aghast. "Miss Eleanor slapped you?" What could have been said to cause gentle, loving Miss Eleanor to resort to violence?

She lightly stoked her cheek. "Yes. I said something that upset her. I think that it was a knee jerk sort of reaction, not intentional. It still makes me angry, but I did say something I shouldn't have."

"What could you have said that would have so upset your mother?"

"It was about Rhett," she admitted.

Scarlett's eyes narrowed. "What about Rhett?"

The flat, cold look in Scarlett's eyes brought Rosemary to a sudden, new understanding of her sister in law. She had been at loggerheads with Rhett for years. They had fought constantly and said things that were bruising and should have been, by all rights, unforgivable. But when all was said and done, Scarlett fought for those that she considered her own, and Rhett was currently at the very top of that list.

"Nothing, it wasn't anything I should have even said. I'm not even…"

Her voice was low and smooth with a barely discernable trace of menace. "What did you say? I'd like to know."

"We were arguing. It wasn't anything of substance."

"Rosemary, what did you say. You'll notice that this time, I'm not asking you to tell me. I'm insisting you tell me, now."

She squirmed. "I said something about how much Rhett loves you, that he loves her so much that it drives him to do things."

Scarlett's face was devoid of emotion as she regarded her sister in law with a cold, level gaze. "What sort of things do you think he's done, because of this driving love?"

"Scarlett…"

She shook her head slightly; her lips pressed together in a tight flat line. "You're a Butler, don't be a coward, if you could say something to your mother about my husband, certainly you can say it to me."

Knowing that Scarlett would not let her be until she had repeated what it was that she had said, she resigned herself to a display of Scarlett's temper. "I wondered out loud if Rhett wouldn't have killed for you," she flinched at the way anger leapt into Scarlett's snapping green eyes.

"And just who do you suppose your brother killed for me?"

Biting her lip, Rosemary exhaled through her nose, knowing that Scarlett would not take her admission lightly. She wanted to be back in Scarlett's good graces desperately, but Scarlett was hanging on her every word. It would be sometime before the damage was undone, but she had come too far to try and fob her off with a falsehood. "Your husband, the one that died in the Klan raid, Ella's father."

Scarlett's face went pale before a flush of anger rose in her cheeks, staining them bright shades of mottled crimson. "You asked your mother if Rhett murdered my husband? You're serious, aren't you? You told your mother that you think your brother killed my daughter's father?" Understanding dawned and the next words she spoke were in a low voice. "You think he killed Frank just so he could marry me?"

Hearing the hated in her sister in law's voice, Rosemary tried to regain some of her previous good will. "No, that isn't..."

But she would not be pacified. If Rosemary had slung some sort of slander against herself, Scarlett would have born it, so used to people's disregard was she. But, for his own sister to say such a wicked, terrible untrue thing about Rhett ignited a fire in her breast that she hadn't felt in ages. "So that isn't what you said?"

"It is, but I…"

"How could you say such a thing aloud, no I take that back, how could you even think such a thing?" She grabbed her cane. "You're lucky you only got a slap, I think if I had been in your mother's position, I would have knocked you flat." She struggled to her feet.

"Scarlett, it was just something I said. I didn't mean it."

"Of course you meant it, why else would you say it."

"Haven't you ever said something only to regret it a minute later, no a second later. The instant I said it, I knew I shouldn't have."

"You regretted it because it was a lie or because it hurt your mother."

"I regretted it because it was something I shouldn't have said…"

"Would you like to know what happened that night? Rhett tried to save all the men who were there. He came to Melly's house and demanded to know where they'd gone. I don't know who he did it for, me or Melly. Perhaps he did it for the both of us. Maybe he did it because Rhett's a southerner and couldn't stand the idea of what we were forced to endure at the hands of the darkies and Yankees. But regardless, he risked his life to save Frank and, even though he hated him, Ashley too, knowing full well that if Frank and Ashley were killed, I would have eventually been his wife. Without Frank I would have been free to marry and without Ashley drawing breath, I would have been free to fall in love with someone who…"

She sucked in a breath. He had risked his life. Why though? For Melly's sake was the most likely reason. He couldn't have done something so dangerous just for her sake, could he? There were so many things that she might never know, why Rhett had tried to save all the men involved in the Shantytown raid was perhaps just one more thing. "I am going to lie down."

"What about Sally's at home? Emily will be here any minute."

"I don't feel very much like going. Least of all with someone who thinks her own brother is no better than a common killer."

"I don't think that. I don't want you to be angry with me."

"That was a lost cause from the moment you said it's about Rhett."

"Scarlett," Rosemary called but the slam of the side door was the only reply she received.

AH


	102. Multiple paths of transgress

**For Dani, who keeps me going even when I am sure the light at the end of the tunnel is in fact a train. You are my other sister and I love you.**

He had left Belle's sometime just before dawn, long after the establishment had closed for the night. Before he took his leave, he had promised to keep in touch with her. There had been no artifice in his words, he intended to, for the time being.

But, time would pass without him hearing from her or vice versa. There might be a quickly scrawled, poorly spelled note from her with some news of Roman. He might write her a brief paragraph, wishing her a happy new year. In the fullness of time though, their correspondence would more than likely fall into nothingness.

Belle had been a part of his life for a long time; and in his fashion, he had always been fond of her. But, that was all he felt for her, fondness and nothing more. She was a close friend who had comforted him when he had needed it. Sometimes comfort came in the form of words, other times; it came in the form of physical relief.

He wondered if it hurt Scarlett, knowing that he had bedded other women during their marriage. She knew about his involvement with Belle but hell, most of Atlanta knew about that. He had never been subtle about it, especially not after they lost Bonnie. But even after he moved past those dark days, when he had returned to Charleston…

He grimaced painfully, his tanned flesh tightening around his mouth even as he ran a distracted hand through his hair. God help him, there had been others. Most of them nameless whores who he had taken in a desperate attempt to forget…to forget everything, except he could never completely banish her from his mind. But, there had been Etta. Etta hadn't been a nameless whore. She was a woman of elevated social standing and thankfully, a discreet tongue. She could be counted on to keep their encounters to herself. She had told him that she was counting on him to exercise discretion, as she was a widow who had a reputation to maintain.

Now, sitting in his office in the bank, he wondered if their new policy of disclosure applied to his amorous encounters during their separation. Things had changed, but not that much. The tendency toward self-preservation that had guided him throughout his life made the choice for him. Etta could be counted on to be discreet and now that he at last had Scarlett's love there would never be an occasion for concern again.

It was strange to be back at the bank after such a long absence. His office in the Atlanta National Bank was just as he'd left it. James Swann, the son in law of the bank's owner had met him personally the moment he'd been notified of Rhett's reappearance.

James had made polite, but faintly prying inquiries about his well-being and that of his family. It was obvious that James was hoping Rhett might disclose some news about the current state of his relationship with his wife. James had always been taken with Scarlett, not to mention, he had a wife and mother in law at home that would be swift to berate him if he hadn't made some sort of effort to draw gossip out of Rhett.

Ever the gambler with a bland, emotionless face, Rhett made several non-committal replies about Scarlett and the children that neither reveled nor appeared to conceal anything. Realizing there was nothing particularly scandalous forthcoming, James offered to walk him to his office. After politely refusing the services of one of the bank clerks as an errand man, Rhett shut the door, grateful for the solitude a single slab of oak could provide.

When he had first started at the bank, he'd taken a small desk near one of the central pillars so he could waylay certain important members of the old guard. He had wanted to forge alliances with the decent people of Atlanta society for Bonnie's sake. All of his efforts at charming the old guard, they had been solely for the benefit of Bonnie.

Surveying his domain, he was pleased at the way the rosewood paneling gleamed with an undoubtedly recent application of linseed oil. The mellowed, but still sweet scent of the rosewood paneling gave the air a faint, exotic perfume. The bank had clearly maintained the nearly priceless wood with a sense of diligence.

The large clerestory windows, situated nearly seven feet above the floor were free of grime and the light that poured through them dappled the room's contents with patterns of light and shadow.

The turn of phrase gave him pause. Patterns of light and shadow summed up so much in his existence. There had been times where he had only moved in shadow. Playing in high stakes card games in garrets and cellars until the bloody first rays of the sun soaked the world anew. Now, he walked in light. His family was eagerly awaiting his return to Charleston. When he did return, he would be in possession of the final outstanding share of Tara.

The joy that would radiate from Scarlett's eyes as she took in the contents of the papers moved him. He knew what it was to long for one's childhood home. Now, she would at long last posses Tara in its entirety. If work continued to his satisfaction on the Landing, he would take them to Tara for the last half of the summer. She would like that.

Glancing at the clock, he sighed heavily. He didn't have anything that necessitated his presence at the bank outside of his appointment with Scarlett's sister, Suellen, at one o'clock. He had slept a few hours after leaving Belle's before rising a little after eight a.m. His hotel room had felt empty after the lively house on the battery and he could not stand the silence a moment longer.

He had fled the silence and once more, the bank served as an adequate refuge. He could use the time to peruse several folders of papers pertaining to the various properties and businesses he had an interest in. He had initially intended to use the sitting room in his suite, but the bank served his purposes equally.

His office at the bank had once served as his most personal sanctuary. Like a monks cell, the room had been his refuge from the grim realities of the outside world. It had been a place to go to escape his increasingly unhappy marriage and the situation that he had found himself in once Scarlett had returned from Tara.

He had acquired an office after Scarlett's miscarriage. He had needed to remove himself from the bustling bank's main lobby, but he hadn't wanted to burn his bridges completely, just redirect them. Alfred Austell, the owner of Atlanta National had also been his partner in several railroad ventures over the years. When Rhett told him he would like the empty office at the end of the corridor, he immediately acquiesced.

When she had first returned from her self-imposed exile from Atlanta, he had wanted to throw himself to his knees and tell her that he wished he could take it all back, every vile, twisted, cruelty laced word. That he would carry the guilt for the rest of his life and that she had every right to despise him.

But, he couldn't and he could see that they both knew things had irrevocably changed between them that fateful day. Whatever understanding they would reach could not be pushed, it would have to present itself in due course. At least, that was what he had once believed. Now, after knowing what she had been feeling then, he wished he had been able to put aside pride and reach out to her. If only he could have, how different things might have been.

Nearly an hour had passed with him signing some papers and discarding others before he remembered something that he had hidden away. He had not been able to throw it away so he had buried it in the bottommost drawer, beneath a pile of papers and ledger books. After rooting through the contents of his drawer, he found the cabinet card he had shoved beneath a mound of old papers the day Scarlett had left for Tara following her miscarriage.

He could not bear to continue to display it on his desk after the accident. It had been taken a week after they had returned from their honeymoon. The vivacious, striking young woman in the picture had been so far removed from the pale, shrunken woman that he had put on the train that morning that he had been unable to reconcile the two.

Better to put it away for the time being, he had thought. But then, even after she had returned, he could not bring himself to display her likeness in his office.

Now, after nearly three years, he looked into the face of the woman the photographer had captured and was stuck by a wave of gratitude to whatever instinct had made him hide away the photograph instead of destroying it.

He wasn't disappointed; it was as exquisite an image as he'd remembered it being. She was every bit as beautiful as he had remembered her being. Charles Dill had positioned a long, narrow mirror so that its ornately carved frame served to frame his subject. Scarlett's slender form obscured the reflective surface of the mirror. The man was a veritable genius when it came to setting a scene, the tableau vivant he had staged for Scarlett's portrait was arresting.

Scarlett was posed demurely on a small, rounded ottoman with a heavy rococo mirror behind her, her skirts arranged becomingly in heavy, precise folds. The formalness of the pose made it seem as though the photographer had taken a photograph of a portrait and not a flesh and blood woman.

Admiring her, he dissected her features thoughtfully. She was such a strange blend of her parents, strange in that both of them were equally present in her features. Her jaw had a tendency to become fixed with mulish single mindedness just as Gerald O'Hara's had the night he had told him to stay the hell away from Scarlett. Her cheekbones were high and well defined, obviously Ellen O'Hara nee Robillard's contribution. Her eyebrows were stark slashes of black across her white brow. But even in the sepia tones of the photograph, Rhett could discern how really unique Scarlett's eyes were. They contained a mischievous and knowing quality that had always enticed him.

But after having known her for a little over a decade, he had realized she hadn't been all that knowing. She instinctively knew that men found her attractive, unfortunately she had always been somewhat naïve in that respect. She had reveled in the admiration of the males of her acquaintance, accepting it as if it were her due. But, that acceptance had blinded her to the obvious; that while he was attracted to her, he had wanted her for far more than her body.

A knock on the door broke him from his thoughts.

"Come in," he called, expecting James or possibly a very early Suellen. For a moment the man who opened his office door was a stranger in a neat, if nondescript black suit. He thought it was one of the clerks, coming to offer his services and he very nearly dismissed the man out of hand. Until he spoke. The soft, sincere apology at appearing unexpectedly could have only come from the mouth of Ashley Wilkes.

Ashley Wilkes' once golden hair was now silver. Not a single strand of hair upon his head that had retained its formerly brilliant, golden sheen. From the conversations he had had with Scarlett over the years, he knew Ashley to be about five or six years older than Scarlett. That would make Ashley only thirty-five, thirty-six at the oldest, ten years younger than Rhett himself.

So much had Ashley aged that a stranger might have been hard pressed to say which was the elder of the two men. Loving and being loved by Scarlett had given him a renewed vitality while Melanie's death had aged Ashley dramatically, giving him a weariness of spirit that spilled over into his silver-gray eyes.

And yet, he bore a certain dignity in his current state that had previously been absent. The dreamy, starry gaze was gone. Whatever dream Ashley Wilkes had once dwelled in had finally come to its inevitable end and now he was fully awake.

Concealing his surprise at the change in Ashley's appearance, Rhett rose from behind the desk. "Mister Wilkes, please come in." He gestured to one of the armchairs before his desk, "Would you like something to drink?"

"Thank you, no. I know we were going to meet tomorrow, but something's come up at the mill and I don't think I'll be able to get away. Would you have some time to spare for me right now? If not, I could…"

He raised a hand to stop him. Meeting today with Ashley would ensure that he could take the early train on Friday morning if he hurried through the rest of his business. "I do have time to spare, I have another meeting at one, but it's only eleven now. You received Scarlett's letter? The one asking if Beau might come visit."

"I did. I will be honest with you, I wasn't altogether sure that I would let him go. After all, it is a long way from home, considering Beau's only ever been away from Atlanta when he was very young. Since Melly died, things have been difficult, but when I asked him, he told me how eager he was to see his Aunt and the children so I couldn't refuse."

"If you can have him ready, he could come back to Charleston with me on Friday."

Ashley shook his head. "I have friends in Colombia, two brothers that I went on the Grand Tour with. They run a bookshop now. I have written to them accepting a long-standing invitation to come pay a call. I will take Beau to Charleston first and then I will be nearby in case he decides that he doesn't want to stay. I know Scarlett wanted him to stay for at least a month, but I really think two weeks is best, at least to start with."

"Yes, that might be for the best, we wouldn't want the boy to become overwhelmed."

"If he enjoys himself, then we could test the waters further, so to speak. Perhaps even have Wade come here for a visit. I know Henry and Pitty would love to see him."

"I am sure Wade would enjoy that. You would have to speak with Scarlett about that. She is quite eager to have Beau come and stay, but I don't know if she would be as eager to let Wade go visiting."

A smile of relief passed over Ashley's face. "I am so glad you understand, it's just that I've become a bit over protective. I don't mean to be, it's just the way things are presently."

"Given the circumstances, it's natural that you would be cautious when it comes to your son, how is Beau?"

"He misses his mother."

"She was a great lady, God rest her soul."

"He's missed Scarlett and the children as well, I think that visiting with them will be good for him. He needs people around him that knew his mother, that remember how special she was. I try to, but I can't speak about her, not yet. In time, I will find a way, Beau deserves to hear her name spoken, to hear how special she was…" He cleared his throat convulsively before changing the subject. "Scarlett has been hinting to me that she is selling the store. She actually suggested that I might buy it and switch the stock over from a general store to hardware and furnishings. She also suggested that I buy the adjoining lot and build a lumber yard." He smiled fondly. "She sent me a complete business plan with step by step instructions."

He nodded his approval. It seemed that Scarlett had been serious about trying to cut down on her obligations to Ashley. If he followed her advice, he wouldn't need any further financial intervention. "It sounds like a well thought out blueprint for success."

"It does, doesn't it? Very ambitious, too ambitious for me."

Seeing a way to finally rid Scarlett of any sort of obligation to the financial security of Ashley Wilkes, Rhett cut in. "I could secure you a line of credit."

Ashley shook his head. "It isn't the money that would be involved. I sold the house on Ivy Street and Beau and I are living with India and Pitty. I recognized a small profit there." His expression lightened and he smiled gently. "Least I forget; the houses that Scarlett is building on the edge of town took up the output of both mills for the last year. Have you seen them, they are very fine houses that people with modest incomes can afford. I'm proud to be a part of such a project."

He shrugged. The housing project was meant to be a secret, if Scarlett wanted him to know, he'd let her be the one to tell Ashley. "I don't know anything about Scarlett building houses, perhaps you're misinformed?"

"I don't think that I am. The building company is called Maith Properties. Maith is an Irish word."

"There are many Irishmen with building companies in the south."

Ashley smiled at him, the dreamy haze of yesteryears long passed reappeared for an instant. "Maith was also the name of Scarlett's first pony when she was a little girl. I'll never forget that. She was such a winsome little thing. Mister O'Hara took her everywhere with him. I never saw her away from his side when she was small. He used to race her across the back meadow when they would ride home and then, just before they would reach the tree they used for a finish line, he would always pull back the reins and let her win. I don't think I ever saw a man as devoted to a child…" he trailed off uneasily, realizing that he could have just as easily been describing Bonnie and Rhett.

The two men sat in an awkward silence before Rhett broke it with a banal comment. "Did she know that you would remember that?"

"I suppose not. I don't think I was meant to know that she was the one supplying me with most of my earnings for the last year. I know she promised Melly that she would look after me; I suppose the houses were a way that she could look after me without humbling me in the process."

"As I told you, I wouldn't know," he lied.

"In her last letter she told me that she won't be coming back to Atlanta anytime soon, that none of you will, is that true?"

"It is. We'll be staying in Charleston for the foreseeable future, a year at the very least. I might come back to close up the house or even to sell it, but I don't expect that Scarlett will make the trip anytime soon. There isn't anything for her here anymore," he clarified with a level gaze.

Ashley wasn't offended by Rhett's pointed reminder that Scarlett had chosen to follow her husband to Charleston rather than remain in the same city as the man she'd once determinedly pursued. "Is she happy?"

Without thinking he replied, "Yes, very. We both are."

His face relaxed and some of the strain melted from his face. "I'm glad. Scarlett deserves happiness. I feel that I've played such a large part in keeping her from being happy, I don't know how I can find the courage to face her when I bring Beau. I wrote to her apologizing for my part, but I wanted to apologize in person, it's just that I can't seem to find the words."

Couldn't find the words? Rhett's temper had already been sorely abused by sitting across from this man. His heart began to pound as his blood slowly boiled. All Ashley Wilkes had ever done with his life was read and talk and he now couldn't somehow script the words to an apology. It showed how little he really thought of her feelings.

Scarlett had pursued him without ceasing, not because she was so single minded, but because whenever she might have been turning her affections elsewhere, this man had drawn her back in with his pretty, but ultimately worthless words. Yet now, he could find the words to apologize for misleading her repeatedly? "Scarlett has such a limited imagination, do you find that to be so?

Confused, Ashley replied hesitantly, "I suppose Scarlett is just a naturally practical person."

"And yet, she managed to imagine herself to be in love with you, I wonder did you ever encourage her, even a little or did she somehow create it all out of whole cloth?"

"I tried not to mislead her."

Rhett's face was completely without expression. Only his eyes contained a spark of human emotion and it was apparent to Ashley that the emotion was hatred. "Do you still want her?"

Taking in a deep breath, Ashley looked away from the dangerous, piercing gleam in Rhett's eyes. "Not the way you do."

"You did want her once and you must have hated the idea that someone like me should have her. You hated it enough to put the idea into her head that she should deny me her bed, I always wondered how you found a way of putting it so that it would not besmirch your vaulted honor."

Ashley ignored the angry words that had just been flung at him. Instead, he looked into the distance, seemingly over years long passed to that April afternoon when Rhett Butler had first come into their lives. "I remember at the barbeque when you insulted my guests and nearly caused a brawl. What was it you said we southerners had in abundance; cotton, slaves and…ah yes, arrogance. You were only wrong in your prediction of how long it would take the Yankees to defeat us, but regardless, you were correct, we never stood a chance. When nearly everyone else had gone into the house I went over to where my cousin was sitting with Scarlett. I saw the truth in your words, except I found you the most arrogant man I'd ever had the misfortune of meeting. That's actually what I called you, an arrogant devil. I also said that you looked like one of the Borgia."

"What did Scarlett have to say to that," he asked, displaying some real interest for the first time since Ashley had begun his recollection.

He looked momentarily abashed. "She gave my words a little consideration before replying that she didn't know that particular family and then she asked if you were kin to them."

"And a part of you recoiled from that display of ignorance, didn't it? Now on the other hand, Miss Melly, she would have immediately known just what you meant, that I looked like a murderous bastard who would slit throats and despoil innocents to meet my ends."

He didn't dignify Rhett's accusation with a response. "Another time, I told her that everything you touch, you poison. I accused you of hardening her through contact with you. She had always been gentle, sweet if not a little headstrong. I thought for a long time that it was you who was responsible for the change in her. That she was slavishly following your example, but in the last year I see now that circumstances bear the greatest share in shaping Scarlett."

He threw back his dark, sleek head and laughed sardonically. "Don't you want to take some credit, after all it was you who trampled on her heart that day in the library at Twelve Oaks. She was so young and utterly naive. If I weren't such an arrogant devil, I might have felt something very close to pity for her."

"She told you?"

"She didn't have to. Your father took me to see the library after I left the assembly to their dreams of valor and victory over the vile Northern oppressors. He was called away and I decided to make myself comfortable on the settee before the fireplace."

"You heard every word," he said slowly, color staining his pale features.

"More than enough to pass judgment. You insisted that you'd never led her on. Maybe in your mind, there's some shred of truth in that, but I doubt you did much to dissuade her either."

"I didn't," he admitted with guilt in his silver eyes. "I wanted to keep her near me, but at a distance. I knew I couldn't make her happy, not as she deserved, but she made me happy and I found I could not stop myself from seeing her."

"When she came to see me in Atlanta after the war for the money for the taxes on Tara, did you know what she would offer me in exchange?"

He swallowed convulsively. "I didn't want to think that she would…or that she could…I couldn't have insulted her by asking, in case I was wrong. I couldn't help her, I should have found a way, but there was Mammy. I thought at the very least, Mammy would take care of her, whether she wanted her to or not."

His lip curled distastefully at Ashley's admission. Of course he'd known what Scarlett was about, Scarlett clothed in her mother's portiers and armed with more courage and tenacity than anyone he'd ever known "If I wasn't sure before that day, I was afterward. That's how I knew you didn't love her, that you couldn't possibly appreciate her. Any man who would allow a woman to come to someone like me for money," he paused, gathering his raging anger and shoving it down beneath the surface. Disgust saturated every word. "I knew then that it was only a matter of time till she saw you for the weak, ineffective, coward you truly are."

Ashley came to his feet. "Captain Butler, you are so talented when it come to turning a magnifying glass on the wrongs I committed against Scarlett. Turn the glass on yourself and see if you like what you find."

He stared at Ashley Wilkes, the heated anger gone from his eyes. Now they were cool and remote, a flicker of bored annoyance the only hint to his thoughts. "I already have, long before this meeting. When you bring Beau to Charleston, you'll see the outcome. Good day Mister Wilkes."

"How do you know that I'll still allow him to go?"

"Because you gave him your word, and you know that in refusing him know you'd not only hurt your son, but disappoint Scarlett. You've spent most of her adult life disappointing her so it wouldn't be anything new, but in spite of my personal opinions on you as a man, you've always seemed to be a capable father. If you decide not to allow Beau to visit, please let Scarlett know as soon as possible, I would hate to see her prepare for his imminent arrival only to be denied. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some things to attend to before Suellen arrives, you know what they say, the devil will find use for idle hands, that's why I like to keep busy."

Ashley left without another word. A gentleman no matter what the circumstances, he did not slam the door or betray any emotion outbursts at Rhett's parathion shot.

He pitied Ashley Wilkes a little; losing Melanie must have ripped his world apart. Having nearly lost Scarlett twice he knew some part of what Ashley must be experiencing. But that pity did not counterbalance his hatred of the man.

He'd done his best not to lead Scarlett on? Every word out of his mouth that day in the library had countered that claim. He had led a passionate, young girl to believe that he had a well of caring for her that would quench her thirst for love. Instead, he was like any man might be, attracted by her vitality and beauty, but repelled by her lack of education and sophistication.

He would tolerate the man when he came to Charleston, but he could never like him. How could he? Just as Scarlett's lack of education had once repelled Ashley Wilkes, his own lack of candor when it came to Scarlett disgusted Rhett. If he could have found the words to tell her that he was more attracted to her body than her actual person, maybe some of the pain of the past years could have been avoided.

The world was filled with women, some even more beautiful that Scarlett, many of whom were available for a price. He resented that Ashley Wilkes never seemed to appreciate how much more unique Scarlett was with her clothes on than without. A women's body was something of no real great consequence, it was what was in her head and beneath her breast that made her someone to be desired.

Once again picking up the photograph of Scarlett, he smiled faintly. It was the leaping excitement in her eyes and the subtle, just barely suppressed smirk that made her so enticing. And those things only made her enticing because he knew why she was fighting against laughing out loud.

He had told her, just before Mr. Dill had called her over, that he suddenly regretted not taking her to France for a honeymoon. After assuring him that she had adored New Orleans she had asked why he would have taken her to France instead? With a suggestive wink and am appreciative look, that in France it was not entirely taboo to have a _photograph taken of one's wife in a state of déshabillé._

_It took her a moment to realize what it was that he was implying, but when she did a furious blush rose in her cheeks. "Rhett Butler, you shouldn't say such things," she declared sternly. But her startling green eyes held a spark of excitement at knowing that even after two months of marriage he had not grown tired of her._

"_I say such things because they are true."_

"_Rhett, shush, Mr. Dill will hear you."_

"_For the amount of money I am paying him to take these photographs Mr. Dill will feign deaf, blind, and mute."_

_She smiled. "How much is this costing you?"_

_He grinned, showing his teeth. It wasn't a kind smile. "Typical Scarlett, always dollars and cents."_

_She bristled defensively. "I was just curious, that's all."_

"_You know what they say about curiosity, don't you?"_

"_Fiddle-dee-de Rhett Butler, it would take more than curiosity to kill me."_

"_Very true, there's more cat about you than your feline eyes my pet."_

"_So long as I never have to show you my claws we'll get along just fine honey," she informed him sweetly._

He laughed softly. Her claws had left marks on his back later that day once he'd gotten her back to the hotel. She had been half wild when he had finally slid himself into her welcoming body.

He was with her, for an instant he could feel the weight of her as she wrapped her arms around his neck and the way she always let her head fall back to allow him to press kiss after kiss against her racing pulse.

He wanted her. Wanted her with so much of his soul that he didn't know how he would conduct the rest of his business that day or the next. All he wanted was to say to hell with it all and take the afternoon train to Colombia. From there he could catch a train to Charleston. If he left as soon as he spoke to Suellen, he could be home by midnight.

Except, he still had other things to deal with before he could leave Atlanta. One was business and the other personal.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

A/N, I am sorry that this chapter was so long in coming. My daughter was back in the hospital in Sept and then two weeks later in October. We went with a new option for treatment so I am hoping that this is our answer. Please, anyone with children under the age of three in their life, insist on having their urine tested for excess proteins at their next check up. If there was a mandated requirement for urine analysis during the well baby visits we would have caught my daughter's kidney disease months before we did.

AH


	103. Things to do when you're in Atlanta

**Have a great weekend. Cant wait for Sat. night I will be getting wet with Rhett, 3 days early with Blue and Brandy and some other hard core fans...then I am excusing myself and hiding in the ladies room to skim any part in which Scarlett figures. Hell of a weekend planned.**

**ps. 15,000 dollars in 1874 would translate to about 176,000 dollars now a days (it comes up, trust me)**

Negotiations, in Rhett's experience were a precise science. Every step bringing one closer to the final, hoped for outcome. He knew what he wanted from Suellen O'Hara Benteen and he knew what was entailed in getting it. Wanting to start exactly as he intended to proceed, he sought to immediately make her wary and reactive.

He did not show Suellen the most basic courtesy of looking up from the papers on his desk when one of the tellers admitted her to his office. "Mrs. Benteen, you're looking well," he commented wryly, his eyes never leaving his paperwork.

Unsettled by his dismissive attitude, she tried to compose herself to answer his obvious barbed comment. "Captain Butler, its nice to see you again. How is my sister doing, and the children? We were sorry to see them leave Tara, but a child's place is with it's mother," she added pointedly.

Looking up, he studied her, his mask of casual indifference firmly in place. There was nothing in his expression to denote hatred, but she could feel it hanging in the air between them.

Sullen became flustered under this cold, steady gaze and added nervously, "We were so concerned when we received your telegram, about the accident and Scarlett taking ill. That must have been awful. I was so glad to hear that everyone is all right."

His lips twisted into an approximation of a smile. Suellen tried to smile back, but his next words wiped the expression from her face. "We could, I suppose, continue to engage in trivial verbiage for another ten minutes, during which I will continue to peruse the papers before me or I could come straight to the reason why I've asked you to come call on me. Which would you prefer?" He smiled a crocodile's grin, "But, where are my manners, won't you sit down?"

Suellen nearly tripped herself as she moved toward one of the chairs before his desk. On her pale, plain face there was a strained look that told of an oncoming bout of nausea. Through what sounded like a mouth full of cotton boils she managed to ask, "Is this about Ella? Scarlett wrote me, I only just got the letter. I know how I treated her wasn't…"

"Wasn't what?" he asked in a deceptively quiet voice.

"Wasn't very Christian of me," she finished lamely.

"Your sister is all but howling for your blood," he commented pleasantly.

She nodded, acknowledging the validity of his statement. Scarlett's letter had been to the point and left no room for doubts. The end of her sister's letter was in her mind as she tried to meet his cold, blank eyes with an expression of equal disdain. _The next time I see you_, Scarlett wrote in her precise bookman's script, _I will most likely forget that we are sisters_. _The wrongs I have done you in the past pale in comparison to your treatment of my children, neither of who have ever done a thing to you. When we see each other again, I will pay you back in kind. Know this Sue, I always pay my debts. –Scarlett._

"If she was so concerned about their welfare, then why did she just dump them at Tara? It isn't a boarding house after all," she exclaimed defensively.

"When she sent the children to Tara, she believed that the _war between you two was just that, between you two. I doubt she thought you would resort to venting your hatred for your sister on two children who could not defend themselves."_

_"I didn't intend to, but having them around only reminds me of every dirty trick Scarlett' played me. You don't know Scarlett the way I do," she muttered bitterly._

_"You're correct. I don't. How long has the late Mister Kennedy been in his grave now?" He held up a hand, stalling her angry retort. "Never mind, this year is my seventh wedding anniversary. That makes it, wait and don't tell me, nearly eight and a half years?"_

Through clenched teeth, she spat out, "How dare you make fun! Poor Frank, she killed him. She all but murdered him. I heard all about how she was acting, prancing around town just practically begging for something terrible to happen. And when it did, I know she was just as surprised as surprised can be. She always did believe that she was above other people, that she could do as she pleased without a damn for what people thought. What happened to her was bound to, only it was sooner than later."

The memory of the beginning of a bruise just above Scarlett's collar on the night he told her of Frank's untimely demise was there, demanding him to give angry retort to Sue's callous dismissal of Scarlett's attack. But, this wasn't the time, not if he wanted to secure Tara for Scarlett. "Your sister was nearly raped that day, maybe worse," he reflected coolly. "Your concern for her welfare is overwhelming."

"My concern for her welfare? I was just as worried about her as she was about me when she stole Frank."

"Your sister stole your beau from you almost a decade ago. You are married with, if memory serves me, several children now. Exactly how long do you intend to cling to the past? The man is dead, and from what I knew of Frank he would be horrified to learn that someone who supposedly so venerates his memory would beat and degrade his child."

His words affected her. She had thought the same thing after the children had left. How much sweeter it would have been if she had praised and coddled Ella, winning her completely from Scarlett. To have Ella reject Scarlett to her face would have been the perfect revenge. But, looking at that pretty, peach complexioned face she knew that she could never even pretend to love Ella. "She isn't just Frank's daughter, when I look at her, all I see is her mother."

"What about Wade? Were you so in love with his father?"

"What? Of course not. I don't even know what you mean by that."

"Your excuse for torturing Ella is that you resent her very existence because Scarlett married Frank. What about Wade? You beat him with a broom handle after slapping him so hard it sent him to the floor. Was that because of some latent love for his father?"

"He was rude. I don't know what sort of behavior you put up with from children, but I don't allow that in my home."

"You don't allow a child to defend his sister? Mrs. Benteen, you are a woman of rare character."

"Just because you feel guilty for abandoning my sister and her children doesn't give you the right to drag me into Atlanta and insult me."

"On the contrary, I've invited you here to make you an offer. One you'd be a fool to refuse."

"What sort of offer?" she asked suspiciously.

"In this case, it's the exact opposite of the highway man's question. I am offering you money and your life."

"I don't understand."

"I'm sure you don't. I want to buy out your share of Tara."

Suellen laughed harshly. "Fat lot of good that would do you. Each of us had a share. Even if you could convince me to sell mine, you'd still need Careen's and that is something even you can't manage. The Catholic Church owns it. So," she pushed back her chair, "it looks as though you've been wasting our time."

"Sit down."

She complied, all the while shooting daggers with her mud brown eyes.

"You are wrong Mrs. Benteen, I own Careen's share or rather, I have acquired it on Scarlett's behalf. With…"

"That's impossible, Scarlett tried and they told her that it couldn't be done, I …"

"When I am finished speaking, you will have an opportunity to speak. Until that time, you'll listen and I'll talk, do you understand me?"

She nodded, sliding down slightly in her chair.

"As I said, I was able to acquire Careen's share. Bear that in mind, I was able to circumvent the rules and traditions of the Catholic Church when it comes to a sister's dowry, do you think it will be as difficult to acquire your share if I chose not to deal fairly with you?"

"I can't imagine why you and Scarlett couldn't make your marriage a happy one, you two are cut from the same shoddy cloth."

"You'll forgive me if I am not too bruised by your observation. I find it difficult to value the opinion of a woman who abuses small children to settle a decade old grudge."

"I don't care what you think you can do. I don't want to sell my share and my husband won't want to leave Tara."

"He won't have a choice. If you force my hand, so be it. I own Careen's share and combined with Scarlett's, that's two-thirds of Tara. When it comes time for taxes to be paid and supplies to be bought, I will only allow Scarlett to pay her share. I've noticed that she's always paid the lion's share. No longer. If you and Mr. Benteen cannot keep up your end, I can appeal to the sheriff to force the sale of your share. I will do so."

"Scarlett would never allow that. She may hate me, but she wouldn't allow Tara to be endangered that way. The idea of a sheriff's sale, you don't know my sister as well as you think."

"Whether she believes it or not, I am her husband and I ultimately can step in and control her finances. I can stop her. The question is, can you?"

"What?"

"If I allow her to act on her feelings toward you the next time we're at Tara, Mr. Benteen and I will both be widowers because she'll kill you and then the state of Georgia will hang her. Your sister has a beautiful neck, it appears to be my duty in life to keep it out of the noose whenever possible."

She was shaking with both anger and fear. Anger at this arrogant man dragging her and fear that he could do exactly as he threatened. Still, even Suellen was not with a shred of the O'Hara bravado. "I am not selling you my share. If you try any of what you just told me, Scarlett will stop you. She respects family, even family that she doesn't like."

"I can guarantee you, if you refuse my very generous offerit is only a matter of time until either you accept a significantly lower offer from me or I buy out your share of Tara at a sheriffs auction, it's entirely your choice."

"You couldn't do that, you wouldn't. People would talk themselves blue in the face about it for the next fifty years. What good is it going to be to Scarlett to own all of Tara if she can't show her face in the country."

"Scarlett tells me that most of those people whom you are convinced will be talking themselves blue in the face fully blame you for Mister O'Hara's accident."

"Oh, she did, did she? Well, she told me that you were also responsible for a riding accident," she commented snidely.

The look in his eyes was what forced her to recoil in her chair. He never moved, not so much as an inch, but he did not have to. Suellen knew then that if it wasn't for the fact that they were in the confines of the bank, he might very well have struck her. "Your sister has always been frank with me on her feelings about you. I very much doubt that she would invite you into her confidence, especially on the subject of Bonnie."

She swallowed heavily. "She didn't have to say it out loud, everyone at the funeral could see that it was how she felt."

"How she felt or feels now is between me and my wife. Now, as I said earlier, you have two choices; sell me your share or I will have it regardless. And Mrs. Benteen, I will have it one way or another."

"Why does she want Tara so badly?" Suellen cried, "she has a huge house in Atlanta and more money than she can spend. Why is she so determined to have my home?" Suddenly she smiled, "You are still divorcing her, aren't you? I heard her the night you came to see Mammy; she told you that she would never let you go. But in exchange for Tara, she might. That must be quiet a blow to your vanity, to know that you'll never measure up to a ratty old house and some red dirt…" her lips curled in a nearly rabid smile, "or to Ashley Wilkes. Poor Ashley, when he was staying at Tara, she used to stalk after him like a cat after a mouse. She made him half crazy 'till she ran off with Frank. Then she lured Melly to Atlanta so she could have him there too."

He laughed then, completely catching her off guard. "What a pity, if I had know you bore such depth of feeling for the esteemed Mr. Wilkes I would have asked him to stay when he was here earlier."

"Ashley was here," she asked incredulously, "I don't believe it. Why would he have come here?"

"He's coming to bring Beau to visit us next week. Beau is going to stay and visit with his cousins. I thought we should wait on having house guests, but you know how Scarlett is about family." He smirked, "Then again, maybe you don't." He shrugged. "I have another appointment so here is my offer, fifteen thousand dollars, cash. You rescind any claim to Tara. Before you say anything else, let me just tell you, if I have to make another offer, it will be seventy five hundred dollars. Still a impressive sum, but not fifteen thousand dollars. I can give you till tomorrow to think about it. If you hurry, you'll make the train out to Jonesboro. Talk things over with Mr. Benteen. Do not hesitate to tell him everything I've said. One way or another, Scarlett will be the undisputed mistress of Tara before the year is out."

She sat across from him, her mind turning over the sum he'd offered. Tara was where she lived, but truth be told, it was where she lived because she never had anywhere else to go. Most years Tara barely produced enough cotton to provide them with enough money to pay for the next year's seed. In the average year they were lucky to see their share of Tara's profits total two hundred dollars after Scarlett and Careen's convent took their shares. Scarlett always put her share directly back into Tara, but according to the odious man across from her that would no longer be the case. Without Scarlett's continued financial support, Tara would most certainly end up in Scarlett's grasping little hands no matter what.

"I want twenty thousand," she exclaimed in a moment of daring.

"Twenty thousand dollars for Tara," he said, pretending to ponder her counter offer. Allowing his eyes to run over her form suggestively, he replied cryptically. "I wouldn't have given you thirty dollars, let alone three hundred for Tara."

Her brown eyes widened at the hint of some unknown insult. However, she could not put her finger on anything specific so she was at a loss as to how to respond. "Excuse me?"

"Never mind. I'm afraid you are slightly confused when it comes to bargaining. I have money and you have something I want. Normally, countering my offer with a request for more than I was offering would be the next logical step in the bargaining process. However, I have told you that I can get what I want without your cooperation which significantly reduces your position in out negotiations."

She frowned, deep in thought. "Before I decide anything, I would have to speak to my husband."

"Of course you do. I had thought as much, therefore an attorney will come out to Tara sometime tomorrow to speak with you and Mr. Benteen. He'll be drawing up the papers that you'll need to sign."

"I didn't say I would sell."

"That's true, you didn't. However, I think a long train ride thinking about just what your family could do with fifteen thousand dollars will help you make the right decision."

"Right decision," she scoffed. "Right for Scarlett maybe."

"That's the only sort of right that I currently am concerned with Mrs. Benteen."

She smiled suddenly. "How long do you think it will be until she is back chasing around after Ashley Wilkes? She loves him, well as much as Scarlett is capable of loving anyone that isn't reflected in her vanity mirror."

"Thank you for your concern, but I'm not worried."

"That's because you've never seen them together, not like I did. Did my sister ever tell you that while the Wilkes' were at Tara she used to meet Ashley down by the orchard? I followed her down there; to ask her about whether or not she would let me use the horse we had to go calling on some neighbors. I got to the bottom of the hill and I saw them, in what was left of the press house. He was holding her, kissing her like he never would stop and she had her arms wrapped around his neck …"

He flinched slightly, picturing Ashley Wilkes pressed against his wife, but he would not allow that image to influence his dealings with Suellen. "Really," he replied blandly, "I suppose you went running back up the hill to the house looking for Miss Melly to tell her all about the duplicity of her dearest friend and her husband."

"I was going to," Suellen admitted begrudgingly, "But when I got to the house Melly was in the front room. As soon as she caught sight of me she started scolding me, she was upset that I had been out on such a cold, damp day without so much as a shawl, and I knew then that no matter how much Scarlett deserved to be shown as the conniving whore that she was, I couldn't look into that kind, sweet face and do that to Melly. So I kept my tongue."

"Only to lose hold of it now, years after the fact? What have I done to convince you to…unburden your soul, as it were, to me?"

"Not a thing. I told you, I see you plain. You are the same sort as my sister; much good that does you. I told you because Melly is gone and it wouldn't hurt for you to know what sort of woman you are so desperate to buy Tara for."

"And what kind of woman is that?"

"The kind that would steal her sister's beau. The kind that would kiss her only friend's husband. Scarlett was a fast piece of goods when we were girls. If she hadn't married Charles when she did, she would have disgraced our parents acting the way she did. As it was, she did that anyway when she moved to Atlanta after Charles passed on. My father had to come here to speak to one of her beaux."

"I remember, your father was a charming man when he wasn't threatening to," Rhett affected a brogue, " take me crop to your misbegotten hide," he laughed, "of course he added, no offense to your mother, so how could I have been offended."

Suellen gaped openly, unable to stop herself. "You were the one who pa had to talk to. He told mother it was all just a bunch of washerwoman tales, but it wasn't. You were courting her."

"I was calling on her, not courting her. I have never courted your sister a day in her life."

"You must have, how else would she have come to marry you?"

"Perhaps it's just as you've said. Scarlett and I are two of a kind and like seeks out like. Go and speak with your husband," Rhett rose from behind the desk, "I'll have a Mister Somers come and see you tomorrow with the papers. Your sister is a woman of rare good sense when it comes to financial manners. I hope this runs in the family, good day Mrs. Benteen."

Suellen came to her feet and without another word left his office, slamming the door mightily behind her. Sliding on his greatcoat, Rhett smiled. Suellen may be Scarlett's sister, he thought, but all they share between them is the same set of parents.

She would take his offer, of that he had no doubt. Fifteen thousand dollars was a huge sum to normal people, to a farmer and his wife living on land that was only a third theirs, it was a fortune.

Exchanging words with several gentlemen he recognized, Rhett made his way from the bank, all the while considering the differences between the O'Hara sisters. One a sister of the church, one a caustic, perennially wronged bitter woman, and one a firebrand with more courage that caution. The three women were nothing alike. He wondered if, deep down, there was some common thread between them all.

AH


	104. Silent all these years

He had thought, in time, these visits might become somehow less painful. He had never thought the pain would completely fade, but still, he had thought there might be a day he could find himself at her grave and be able to remember the happiness she had brought into his life.

He rubbed his forehead briskly. There was a dull ache between his eyes rivaled only by the pain in his chest. When he'd arrived he cleared away some leaves that had accumulated against her tiny marker. Before he left, he intended to find one of the groundskeepers and make it understood that he was never to find his angel's grave in such a state again. 'I'll set up something through an account at the bank, make sure they get a little extra to keep things up,' he thought.

It had been a temporary escape to focus on what he'd do after he finished his visit. He could never come to Atlanta and not visit Bonnie's grave ,but he dreaded the silence and overwhelming feelings of guilt and loss that engulfed him as he sat on the cold granite bench that Scarlett had installed sometime in the months after he'd first left her.

When he first discovered the bench he had taken it for granted, but recently he had realized that she'd put it there for him. Years ago she had explained to him that she'd never seen the purpose of visiting a grave. He had been teasing her about how she never visited Charles and Frank's respective last resting places, but she'd surprised him by countering with the idea that the person contained in the grave was so far from that place that it did no good to pour out ones heart in a graveyard when the same thing could be accomplished in the privacy of ones own home.

Her face had been soft with a light flush as she described to him what he recognized to be the most basic tenets of Christian Dogma. She was so matter of fact in her presentation of her beliefs that he knew she did not recognize their source. Having been raised by a devout catholic mother, she would have naturally been taught from an early age that what is left behind after death is so much dust and clay. All emphasis would have been placed on the soul's assent into heaven. Despite having distanced herself from the teachings of the Catholic Church since her mother's death, her thinking was very much still colored by its doctrines.

Coming out of his ruminations, he made another attempt to finish telling Bonnie what it was he'd come to say. "Your mother is going to be all right, not that you don't already know that. I know that you were looking after us that day…" he trailed off into silence. He tried to talk to her as though she were close by, but her headstone served as a grim reminder of just how short their time had been together.

His little girl was beyond hearing him. He could sit in the gathering twilight and try with all his might to reach her, but there would be no answer. No sweet, still childishly shrill voice would reply, telling him how much she loved her best sweetheart.

"Uncle Rhett?" His head came up sharply at the intrusion. There was only one child in Atlanta that would address him as such. Looking up, he saw Beau Wilkes hurrying along the path toward him, his obviously reluctant father several paces behind him.

"Beau, I barely recognized you, you've grown a foot at least." Rhett greeted the boy cordially; it wasn't his fault that he could not stand Beau's father. He would not allow those feelings to color his treatment of a child who was Wade's cousin in addition to Melanie's son.

The boy shook his head, vaguely pleased by the thought that he might have grown so much in the last year, still modesty intervened and he shrugged off Rhett's words. "No I haven't. Where's Auntie Scarlett, are Ella and Wade here too?"

"They aren't. They're in Charleston still, but," he glanced over Beau's head at Ashley, silently asking if he was still going to allow the boy to come. Ashley nodded, giving his consent for Rhett to continue, "but I think you'll be seeing them soon."

Beau scuffed the ground, exposing a half concealed tree root that had bored above the surface. He worked at it a little with the toe of his shoe before looking back up at Rhett. "Are they going to stay in Charleston?"

"I think so, at least for now," replied Rhett gently, sensing the child's obvious disappointment.

"Does Auntie like it there?" Beau asked, sounding as though he doubted that Scarlett could prefer any place to Atlanta.

"I'd say that she does, Beau."

"Isn't she coming home? She told me that she would. Aunt Pitty misses her too and so does my daddy," he turned to Ashley for confirmation, "don't you, daddy?"

Ashley rested his hand on Beau's shoulder, his silver-gray eyes met Rhett's and for the second time in as many days, Rhett Butler found himself pitying Ashley Wilkes. Here was a man that was destined for misery because he would not or could not dictate the course of his own destiny. "Yes, I miss her."

Wriggling out from under his father's hand, Beau addressed Rhett once more. "Please Uncle Rhett, couldn't you bring them back to Atlanta."

"Beau, we are staying in Charleston for a while, your Aunt wants you to come visit with us, we all do…"

"But I want them to come home."

"I know you do, but right now we are going to make our home in Charleston. That doesn't mean we won't ever be bac…"

Beau shook his head forcefully. "No one who leaves ever comes back." He jammed his hands into his pockets. "I'm going to say goodbye to mother. There was something I forgot to tell her."

Before Ashley could stop him, Beau took leave of them both, his small framed body barreling down the path the same way he'd just come.

The stood facing one another, their earlier confrontation at the bank still very much on both their minds. Ashley looked back in the direction Beau had gone. Seeing him standing at Melanie's grave and satisfied that the boy was not about to run off, he turned his attention back to Rhett. "I apologize for his behavior, he is disappointed that Scarlett and the children aren't coming back. I think he's known they weren't going to come back for a while, but it's one thing to know something and another thing entirely to have that knowledge confirmed."

"He seems very ill at ease with me. We had always gotten on fairly well in the past, what's changed?"

"Beau got it into his head that if you did not return to Scarlett, I could marry her and then he'd be Wade and Ella's brother. He thought it would be the perfect solution to everyone's problems."

A smile formed on Rhett's lips. It was not without humor, but it was obvious that Rhett was less than amused by Ashley's confession. "Now where might he have gotten that idea from I wonder?"

Ashley, through either a natural instinct toward self-preservation or outright guile, had the good sense to look uncertain. "I'm sure I don't know. He only told me recently that it would be a perfect solution since his mother would have approved of him calling his Aunt Scarlett mother. I immediately told him that his Aunt was already married so it would be impossible for me to marry her."

His voice was low, but his words did not lack the strength of conviction. "I would never have let it happen."

"I know that."

"No matter how angry I was with her I would not have stood idly by while she ruined her life marrying yet another man she didn't love."

"You're wrong, I love Scarlett very much, for many reasons but most of all for her courage and bravery in going after whatever it is she wants."

Rhett's stoic façade showed a crack for a bare instant as his eyes sparkled with anger. "If we weren't at my daughters grave I would tell you exactly what it is I think you love about my wife, her courage is the least of it."

"You are wrong. I admit that I love that she is beautiful but more than that, I admire many things about her and I hoped she would find happiness. When she told him she was going to Charleston to see you, I told her that I hoped you could resolve things."

"One way or another?" Asked Rhett, sarcasm clear in his voice.

"I did not want to see you divorce Scarlett. She would have been destroyed by the scandal. I hoped that you would allow her back into your good graces and it appears that is precisely what occurred."

"It is. You must be pleased that you've gotten your wish. With that in mind, your son is welcome in my house, you on the other hand aren't. Every time you're in the same room with Scarlett, I feel dirty just by being there to witness first hand your obvious feelings for her. Few people can make me feel that way, you should be very proud or very ashamed."

"You don't have anything to fear from me, I plan on continuing to maintain my friendship with Scarlett, I want nothing further," he replied, maintaining his composure.

"I know I don't have anything to fear, a part of me wonders though if you might not like the new Scarlett Butler."

"I will always like Scarlett, through all of her incarnations."

"Even the present one in which she thinks of you only as someone she knows from the country and the father of Miss Melly's son?"

There was a flicker of dislike in Ashley's eyes, but the even quality of his voice did not waver. "I care about her deeply and you love her, we should at least attempt to be civil, for the sake of Scarlett and her children. We are both important to them, I doubt they would want to see us at odds."

"Your hope is that we can be civil during the brief time you'll be in Charleston?"

"It is."

"The Borgia's were considered to be among the most civilized patrons of the Renaissance, lets hope for your sake my resemblance to them is only skin deep."

"Its understandable that you feel that way, it was wrong of me to reveal my first impression of you. It's out of date by over a decade. You've done a great deal for my family, for that I have always been grateful."

He felt a twinge of malice and thought briefly about the merits of revealing that he was the one who sent the money that Ashley used to buy Scarlett out of the mills. He knew it was a pointless, childish gesture, but the temptation was there just the same.

What would Ashley have to say if he learned that it was Rhett Butler's money upon which he had built the foundations of his present life? Would he be surprised? Rhett thought that he might know, after all where else could such a large sum of money so coincidently come just in time to smooth over the remaining scandal of the encounter between Ashley and Scarlett at the mill?

He swallowed the urge. Besides, there was something else that he could bedevil Ashley about and he fully intended to do so.

AH


	105. Prefrences

Eleanor stared blindly at the sheet of paper she had just laid down on the blotter, a faint, preoccupied frown settled on her normally smiling lips. She meant to have the menu drawn up for tomorrow night so that Carlen and Penny could do some of the marketing for Rhett's welcome home supper. She had already invited Sally and Miles Brewton and sent Maingo over on the launch to Julia Ashley's to extend an invitation to her and her bevy of nieces. The children could all take their meal in the breakfast room, which would leave just enough room at the dinning room table for the adults.

The rain that had been falling steadily since early that morning pattered against the windows as a particularly stung gust of wind roared outside the house. It sounded like a lion and she was reminded of the old saying about March coming in like a lion and going out like a lamb. Certainly, it felt as if they were all in the jaws of some lurking predator.

She was glad that Rhett was due home the following afternoon. She needed him to help her sort things out between Rosemary and Scarlett. They were obviously not on friendly terms and a mother's loyalty made her want to defend Rosemary, but she suspected or, if she was going to be completely honest with herself, she knew that their argument probably stemmed from something Rosemary might have said about Rhett and the fate of Scarlett's second husband.

On Tuesday, after asking Miss Eleanor to make excuses for her to Emily, Scarlett had stayed up in her room, emerging only for a stifling dinner during which nether neither her daughter nor her daughter in law would look at one another, let alone speak. Eleanor tried her best to make conversation, but Rosemary still wasn't speaking to her and Scarlett was distant and distracted, sometimes taking several minutes to realize Eleanor was even addressing her. Ella and Wade had been at Sally Brewtons with the children of several of Eleanor's friends so they were spared the agony that was Tuesday evening's meal and by Wednesday morning things has improved, but again, only slightly.

In the presence of her children, Scarlett had regained some of her usual mannerisms but Rosemary was still tensed and ready for another argument to start. She refused to acknowledge any of Eleanor's attempts at reconciliation. Rosemary seemed her usual self with Wade and Ella, directing all of her attention at them exclusively.

The house, which had only recently been filled with happiness and laughter, had become heavy and oppressive and if it weren't for Scarlett's progressing recovery, Rosemary's involvement with Jason Cross and the recent arrival of Scarlett's children, she would have seriously considered paying a visit to her second cousins, Peggy and Junie in Beaufort. She hadn't seen them in years and she had begun to wonder if it might not be wise to pay them a visit once Rhett returned.

The situation with Jason Cross and Rosemary was not one she wanted to be drawn into. She did see Rosemary's point of view, she wanted to be allowed to make her own decisions but, she also saw Rhett's side of things. The Cross's and the Butler's had intermarried before, usually at the end of a revolver. Had Rhett been made of different stuff, he too might have married a Cross to avoid scandal. But her Rhett, much as she loved him, was not one to take the path of least resistance. He could only be himself and perhaps that was what had first drawn him and later drew him back to Scarlett.

They were two of a kind, Rhett and Scarlett. In their eyes was the same vitality and sheer recklessness that all but demanded them to buck the rules of polite society. They would never be the sort to make a home and keep company with the virtuous matrons and noble gentleman of the town. She knew in her heart that Charleston was a resting spot for them, a place where they felt they could get to know one another. But in time, they would leave for somewhere else; New York, Paris, Madrid, or Rome would eventually call to them and then eventually that far-flung, exotic destination would lose its exotic nature and they would be on the move once again. Sometimes she wondered if the Robillards or O'Hara's had any gypsy blood in them, as she knew the Butler's did.

The door to the study opened and Scarlett paused, surprised to find someone in Rhett's private space. She had intended to sit in his chair and write some letters. It made her feel as though he was near by if his things surrounded her, and after a poor night's sleep she needed that closeness even if it was only an illusion. "Miss Eleanor, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were in here," said Scarlett.

"Come in, I've just been trying to set a dinner menu for tomorrow, but I've been woolgathering instead."

"I could come back later if I'm going to disturb you," she offered.

"Don't be silly Scarlett, I've been meaning to ask you something so your timing is actually perfect," said Eleanor.

She came in and sat on one of the straight back chairs, waiting expectantly.

"Is there anything that Ella and Wade don't especially like, to eat I mean. In all the confusion of getting the children settled and what not I forgot to ask."

Was there anything that Wade and Ella didn't like? She tried to think of all the meals they'd sat down to as a family over the years and yet, nothing came. Nothing came because she'd never paid attention to what they ate or did not eat. Her main concern had been that they had food to eat, not if they preferred one thing to another.

She knew that Bonnie had been incredibly finicky, often causing a commotion if she did not like an item that was on her plate. She would refuse to eat until she was given a new plate, even if the offending item was scraped from the plate. She would insist that it had touched the other items, rendering them inedible. Many meals had ended up being tossed out and the waste bothered Scarlett immensely. She looked at Wade and remembered how many times she had gone without so that he could have whatever pitiful offerings she could manage to put before him.

An idea had been fighting to be acknowledged during those meals, but she had been too focused on other pursuits to let it come forward. She could see clearly now though and it tore at her a little. Wade was growing up to be a fine, loving, generous young man. Part of who he was could be credited to what he had come from. She knew that he must remember at least something of those dark days at Tara.

Ella, though still slightly scatterbrained, was sweet and considerate. Ella had been less than two years old when her mother had remarried. The only life she'd ever known was one filled with luxury and privilege. Any other child would have been overwhelmed by such a life, but Mammy had been there to hold Ella to a basic code of conduct.

Occasionally, when she could tear herself away from the mills and the store and Ashley, Scarlett would step in to make sure Ella was well mannered and could carry herself through a meal properly. It was Bonnie who would have been a challenge and perhaps ultimately, a disappointment.

Had it been up to Scarlett, Bonnie would have stayed at her place till she finished her plate or at least tried a bite or two of whatever it was that caused her to turn up her nose in the first place. That had been Ellen's rule, refuse whatever you wished to, but you had to at least try it first and not just dismiss it out of hand. But when she had suggested that as a solution to the constant outbursts during meals, Rhett had snidely countered that cleaning her plate the way she always did, she was simply unable to appreciate someone with a discerning palate.

It had been so long ago, she could not understand why it still bothered her, Rhett's outright dismissal of her few attempts at playing an active role in Bonnie's upbringing. Part of it was just that she hated being dismissed as though her thoughts had absolutely no merit whatsoever. Wade and Ella had lovely table manners, instilled in them by Mammy, Melly, and herself. Even when they had been next door to starvation, she had always made Wade sit at his place quietly as Careen said the evening prayer. He would have never taken food off of someone else's plate as Bonnie had often done.

It made her feel hateful and mean to think of Bonnie as being less than perfect, but she had many qualities that would have made her difficult and spoiled as she'd grown older, and she knew, in her heart, that Rhett wouldn't have stepped in. It was always easier and far more pleasant to be the softhearted parent than the disciplinarian. Gerald had always been her favorite parent because he had let her do as she pleased, but she had had Ellen to counterbalance that with rules and guidance. Her father would have never thought to try to prevent Ellen from instilling manners within his children, no matter how much he might otherwise indulge them.

"Scarlett?" Asked Eleanor gently, "What's the matter?"

"Hmm?" She tried to force a smile, but it didn't come.

"Darling, you're crying, what is it, what's wrong?"

"I…" she could not admit, not to Bonnie's grandmother, that she had been thinking unkindly of her late granddaughter, "I don't know what they like and don't like," she finally admitted.

"Well, that isn't anything to cry about," she said kindly, "I'll simply ask them myself. Really though, is that all?"

"I guess I've just never really approved of picky eaters," she said finally.

AH


	106. Homecomings

Settling in for the final leg of his journey home, Rhett smoothed out the letter forever rescinding Suellen Benteen's share of Tara. Scanning it quickly, he grinned, chuckling softly to himself. The documents surrendering the former Careen O'Hara's share had arrived just before he'd left for Atlanta. Careen's share was safely concealed at the back of the safe he kept in his office in the house on the battery.

Knowing Scarlett as he did, she would use his office as a refuge, if she needed one, while he was away. He didn't want to chance her rummaging through his desk and finding out that he had been able to buy back Careen's share of Tara from the Catholic Church. He fully intended on escorting her to Church until their anniversary in May. She had told him on the launch last Sunday that she needed to start going again before the Bishop began to think that she had accepted his refusal to sell.

His mother would be upset to see him attending services at a Catholic church, but he wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to watch Scarlett at her most charming. She would have no idea that she owned Tara for another two months and that amused him greatly. She had told him in December that she hadn't begun to consider what sort of effort she would have to put into procuring Suellen's half, not when she had the Catholic Church to contend with.

And now after having paid out far more than what Tara on paper was worth, he had acquired Careen's and Suellen's shares. On Saturday, he would go to his lawyer's office and have him file the papers that would finally name Scarlett O'Hara Hamilton Kennedy Butler as the sole owner of Tara. It had taken some doing but he had accomplished what he'd set out to do and he still had nearly two months until their wedding anniversary.

In the valise at his feet was a folder of papers that Henry Hamilton had asked if he would bring to Scarlett. Most had to do with the store and her rental properties, but the largest part dealt with the Peachtree House and it's never ending list of expenses. Even with them not living in it and a skeleton crew of servants maintaining it, it still cost triple what it did to maintain his mother's household in Charleston.

If Scarlett was willing to let it go, then so be it. It wasn't the daunting upkeep that made him eager to sell; it was how grim and joyless the place was. While he'd been supervising the crating of the pieces Scarlett wanted sent to the Landing, he had stood at the top of the front staircase and reflected on the time they'd spent in that cavernous house. Looking down the length of the stairs as they disappeared into the shadowy foyer he could still see, in his mind, her body tangled in her dressing gown lying at the bottom of those stairs.

It was at that moment that he realized he could never live there again.

The past was there in every room, in no time at all the living would have been crowded out by the dead. Bonnie's things still occupied the playroom and her tiny bed was in one of the guest rooms. Scarlett must have had it moved there between his having left the first time and when he had returned for his first obligatory visit.

He had asked Henry to quietly begin to make inquiries about selling the house on Peachtree Street. He had decided to take Scarlett at her word. If she didn't want the place, then he would be relieved to never set foot in it again.

He sat in his private compartment a content and wholly satisfied man. He had said goodbye to Belle and bought Suellen's share of Tara. He had fulfilled Wade's request and Charles sword would be hanging on the wall in Wade's room before morning. Jack and Jill were settled in their crates in the baggage car. A part of him was eager to see Scarlett's face when she saw them. Surely, she remembered them even if she did not know their given names.

Glancing up at the landscape rushing past as the train accelerated out of the station, he could just see his reflection. Gone were the bloated, sagging features that had come from endless bouts of drinking and less than abundant periods of rest. The ruined features with traces of the man he had once been were finally gone. The well-defined features of the man he had been had reemerged. His face was more careworn than when he had first married Scarlett, but he was no longer a ruin of a man bent on self-destruction.

Seeing himself, looking so much like his old self, caused him to shake his head in disbelief. How had everything turned out so right when it had started out so wrong? He had married a woman who hadn't loved him and who, in the bargain, had longed for the love of another man. She had claimed to only bear a fondness for him and had told him that she could never love him.

They had fought bitterly and constantly and more often than not, they had hated one another. He had hurt her both physically and emotionally and she had alternately tormented and tortured him. On the afternoon of Melanie Wilkes's funeral, he had thought there was no going back. But, therein lie the miracle, they hadn't gone back, they had moved forward. Together.

There was no logical way that things could have turned out so right, but they had.

He was a man who was, in a great many ways, even prouder and more arrogant than the callous bastard who had fathered him. Scarlett had told him that he had never let her know what he felt for her and he knew that she was right, he hadn't. In the past, he would hide every trace of pleasure at seeing her behind a bland expression and a sarcastic off the cuff greeting. This would be the first homecoming in all the time he'd known her that he could embrace her and let her know that he had missed her.

Despite all the blessings in his life, and there were many, there was an emptiness that persisted, an emptiness that would not be filled even when he reached Charleston. It was a feeling that he couldn't explain, how the pain stemming from the loss of a child never truly went away. That every time he saw something that she would have liked, he ached. That when Ella innocently mentioned something they had done together, he wanted to close his ears rather than be reminded of what had been lost.

Being in Atlanta and visiting Bonnie's grave had reopened a wound that had begun to finally heal. He was glad to be out of Atlanta. Atlanta and Bonnie were forever tied in his mind, they always would be. It would be a long time before he returned, of that he was sure.

There was nothing there for him except Bonnie's grave and even that was something that would not bring him if he had no other reason to be there. Bonnie was gone. He had finally accepted it. Slowly, he was coming to terms with the idea that she was always with him, everyday of his life. He would never completely abandon visiting her grave, when Scarlett was able to travel he wanted her to go with him so they could finally mourn her together just as they should have done when they'd lost her.

Thinking about Bonnie's grave led him to thoughts of Ashley Wilkes and their verbal altercation at her grave. He had been so close to telling him that, in the end, he had worked in collusion with the late Mrs. Wilkes to get him the money he had used to buy Scarlett out of the mill. He had promised Miss Melly that he would never let Ashley know, and besides that, he had something much more potent with which to lash out at Ashley Wilkes.

_He merely smiled at Ashley, waiting a moment till wariness crept into the other man's expression. "While I was in Charleston, did you ever kiss Scarlett?"_

_His gray eyes widened in surprise before he looked toward Melanie's grave. Beau was sitting on the ground, seemingly telling his mother something important. "I don't know if you know the answer to your own question. You've said that there aren't any more secrets between you and Scarlett, so I suppose you might as well have the truth. I tried to kiss her, once. She slapped me for it and told me that I wasn't welcome in her home again. I apologized, and she forgave me."_

_That god damned bastard, he had no clue as to where Beau might have gotten the idea that his father might one day marry his aunt? The thought of his hands on her, of his mouth pressed against hers before she raised her palm to dole out one of those stinging slaps that burned for hours afterward reared up before his eyes, but his voice was laced only with mockery, never betraying his desire to smash his fist into Ashley Wilkes' pale, aristocratic jaw. "Tried to kiss her or did kiss her?"_

_Ashley saw the deadly glint in his eyes and so he asked cautiously, "Why does this matter now? It was a year ago, and it was a mistake on my part." _

_He was lying and after years of deluding himself, he was very good at it. Not that Rhett cared much, he had nowhere to be and watching Ashley Wilkes attempt to justify things was very nearly amusing, or it would have been if it wasn't so damned pathetic._

"_Who says it matters? I am just naturally curious, so please, won't you indulge my curiosity? Did you kiss my wife," his voice caressed the words 'my wife, "and then she slapped you or did you attempt to take liberties but, she saw your intentions and slapped you before you could?"_

_Only the slightest tightening at the corner of his mouth told Rhett how close to losing his temper Ashley was coming. "She was upset about you leaving again after the New Years ball. You hurt her once again, badly. She was alone and unhappy, and all she wanted was for someone to comfort her. I was holding her as she cried, and I thought that she needed to know that someone cared for her." _

_Only Beau's close proximity and the lack of desire to make a scene at his daughter's grave kept him from throttling Ashley Wilkes. He had thought that he could continue to bait Ashley Wilkes for his own, somewhat perverse, amusement. He hadn't counted on the fact that most of the reason he could so enjoy baiting Ashley was that he still despised him. "You mercenary bastard, and to think, people have called me a cad. Did it bother you at all that she belonged to another man, that the reason she was so unhappy and hurt was that she loved me and it was me that she wanted, not just someone. I've always wondered, has it ever bothered you that while you've lusted after her, she's always belonged to someone else?"_

_His earlier anger had dissipated. His voice was calm and soft. "I didn't think she belonged to you any longer, if she ever did. You had gone yet again and she told me that you had made it clear to her that you weren't coming back. She was so vulnerable and broken. I had never seen her that way, I could have never imagined that she could be so lost and in need of comfort."_

"_So you decided that since Scarlett was in such a fragile state after having been abandoned by her husband, the best way to help her would be to attempt to seduce her, well of course, what else could you have done. Ripping at someone's jugular when they are at their weakest, but then isn't that what friends are for?"_

_He met Rhett's cold stare and held it. "You're right, I have no excuse to offer for my actions, if I could take back what I said and did that day, I would, but certainly not for your sake. I regret it because it hurt Scarlett. I had no right to say to her the things I did, she didn't want to hear them and in the end, I made things worse, although I am not entirely sure if that was at all possible, to make things worse than they already were."_

_He knew what Ashley said, the only thing that he would have thought to say to her at a time like that. But still, he had to know if she had refused what it was that she had always wanted most, or claimed to want most. In a voice that held no anger, he asked, "What did you say to her?"_

"_I told her that I could make her happy, if she'd let me."_

"_What a picture you paint with your words, Mister Wilkes. Perhaps you should look into turning your hand to writing slim, but elegant books of poetry for young ladies to clutch to their bosoms," he said, withdrawing his cigar case from his pocket, " Damn my curiosity, would you be so kind as to indulge me one more time, make her happy how, by making her an adulteress?" The mocking light fled Rhett's eyes till they were focused and cold, the sort of eyes a man looks into over the barrel of a dueling pistol. "I have to ask, would you have taken her to a hotel for an afternoon or would you have made yourself at home in my house in my wife's bed?"_

"_You're being deliberately crude but you needn't bother. It doesn't particularly shock me, but I'd like to point out to you that in insulting me, you also cast aspersions on Scarlett's ability to remain faithful to you. I wanted her to tell you that she was ready to accept the divorce. I wanted her to consent to the divorce and once she was free of you, I would have asked her to leave Atlanta with me."_

"_So you asked my wife to marry you?"_

"_No, it would have been inappropriate. I think eventually I might have, but I didn't ask her that afternoon. I told her that I could make her happy and then I tried to kiss her, but before I could, she slapped me and told me to get out of her sight. I regretted it afterwards because it changed things between us. After that, she never wanted to be alone with me. She stopped confiding in me."_

"_You encouraged her to turn her back on her marriage and then attempted to maul her, I can't imagine why she avoided your company after that. Tell me something, you seem to have no qualms about kissing," he held up a hand to stop Ashley from speaking, "about nearly kissing another man's wife, did you ever kiss Scarlett while Miss Melly was alive?" _

_For a moment, Ashley was unable to speak. Despite Rhett's claims of having come to an understanding with Scarlett and that they had been honest about the past, he would never have thought that Scarlett would disclose something of that magnitude. "That is none of your God damned business."_

_He realized, in that moment, that he had profoundly shocked Ashley. That he had believed that no matter how good things were between Scarlett and him, she would never betray their secrets. He watched as a muscle ticked in Ashley's jaw._

"_If I didn't know for sure, I'd still take that as a yes. I'll admit it wasn't a real question. I know that you have. I just wondered if you kissed her or she kissed you."_

"_Though you claim to now be privy to all of Scarlett's secrets, I would imagine there are still some skeletons that she would chose not to bring out into the light of day. I refuse to oblige you in giving you something to berate her with once you see her again._"

"_I doubt I am privy to all of Scarlett's past secrets. I have only so much time left to me in this lifetime and I would think it would take nearly as long for her to bring me up to date. It was the former Suellen O'Hara who thought I might like to know about you kissing Scarlett one day after you returned from the war."_

_Shock swept across his face followed swiftly by trepidation. "Suellen? How could she know? Scarlett wouldn't…"_

"_Confide in her shrew of a sister? She didn't have to, Suellen saw you kissing Scarlett. She kept it to herself so as not to hurt Miss Melly. Isn't that astounding, in that one instance even Suellen behaved with more honor than you. She chose not to hurt Miss Melly. A pity you couldn't have found it within yourself to do the same."_

_He looked toward the sky and whether it was to break eye contact between them or if he was looking toward Melanie for forgiveness and understanding, Rhett couldn't say for sure. There was sincere regret in his voice when he finally did speak. "You couldn't understand how I feel about Scarlett and I don't chose to explain myself to you."_

_His anger nearly spent, he found a trace of sympathy for the man before him. What he had told Scarlett years before still held true. Ashley Wilkes would have been a far happier man had he died during the war. "You might find I understand better than you think. I know what it is to want Scarlett so much that it drives you nearly insane. But, unlike you, I was in a position to do something about it without attempting to make her into a whore."_

"_You can't expect me to believe that you never tried to take advantage of Scarlett. That you never…"_

"_That I never what? Think very carefully before you finish that sentence, I would hate for it to be the last you utter for the foreseeable future."_

"_You'll never convince me that in all the time you spent with Scarlett before you married her, you were never inappropriate towards her."_

_He chuckled grimly. "Of course I was. As often as I could without her banning me from her company altogether. But the one major difference between our situations was that I wasn't married. You were. Every time you looked at Scarlett and thought of her in ways that make me vaguely ill, you were betraying your wife. Were they worth it, those few stolen moments you had with Scarlett? Were they worth betraying your wife?"_

"_Are you so concerned on Melanie's behalf or your own? It only happened twice. Both times Scarlett was a widow. She never betrayed you if that's why you are so anxious to get to the truth. That afternoon at the mills…" _

"_Whatever happened at the mills was at your instigation, and as it is, Scarlett told me what happened so I'm not interested in your no doubt slanted view as to what happened. Besides, Scarlett is strangely moral in that respect, she might allow a married man to kiss her, perhaps under the right set of circumstances, she might even initiate it, but I had no doubts that she was unmarried at the time."_

_Beau was approaching them even as Ashley opened his mouth to reply. Seeing his chance to get in the last word, Rhett smiled carefully. "It looks as though our time together is nearly at an end. Let me just leave you with this Mister Wilkes, when you come to Charleston there will be no opportunities in which to pull Scarlett to one side while you reminisce about times that are long in the past and best left there. You will do nothing to shame or disgrace Scarlett while you are visiting. That being said, perhaps before you leave for Colombia you and I will have a drink." _

_He smiled, his dark face benign as he glanced at his right hand. "Perhaps before you leave for Colombia, we'll have a drink. I have a un'anello velenoso that I have always wanted to try or maybe no.," In the fading daylight his white teeth gleamed in contrast to his swarthy skin. "I've promised Scarlett that I'd be on my best behavior, but for someone of my flawed moral character, who can say just how good my best behavior truly is."_

_He smiled at Beau who, unaware of the heated exchange that had just taken place, smiled back. "I look forward to seeing you next week young man, I'll tell your Aunt and cousins that you asked after them."_

"_Thank you Uncle Rhett."_

_Ashley looked on, his mouth set in a frown. He must have only just realized that a un'anello velenoso was not a vintage, but rather a poisoner's ring, thought Rhett with an ill-concealed grin._

Being a gentleman, he was certain that Ashley would not discuss their exchange with Scarlett. Not that he cared. He planned on telling her that he had spoken at length with Ashley and if she were all that concerned, she would ask what about. He didn't know if he would broach the topic of the kiss in the orchard. If she had thought it was important, he thought, she would have told him. But he fully intended to tease her about her near elopement with the elegant Mister Wilkes. He wanted to hear her thoughts on the subject and a full out inquiry would only put her on the offensive.

He knew he should let it go, that he should just ignore what he had learned the previous day, but he needed to know if she had ever seriously considered taking Ashley's advice.

The train was nearly three hours late when it arrived in Charleston. Inclement weather and a problem with the tracks in Batesville had completely thrown off their expected time of arrival in Charleston. It was already after six p.m. when they finally pulled into King Street Station. His mother would not have held dinner past 5:30, sensible creature that she was; she had come to accept that of all of life's certainties, the timetable of Central Southern Rail was not one of them.

Taking only enough time to give one of the porters' an obscene tip and explicit instructions concerning his baggage and directions to his mother's house, Rhett set out for home.

The downstairs windows glowed in the darkness like a welcoming beacon and from the numerous shadows, he saw cast by candlelight against the light muslin curtains, he surmised his mother must have invited company for dinner. Company was well and good but there was only one person he wanted to see and as luck would have it, she was sitting on the porch swing.

Opening the front gate, he started up the path even as she rose from the swing with the aid of her cane, his stride increasing visibly. Reaching the bottom step, he looked up to meet Scarlett's expectant gaze.

Without a moment's hesitation, he smiled at his wife. "I missed you," he said simply.

Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight. "I missed you too."

AH


	107. Calling a truce page one

**FANFICTION DOT NET AND I ARE NOT FRIENDS. It has decided that every time I try to post a chapter over two pages long that I am in fact posting 200k worth of work. I want to post this chapter so I decided to simply break it down to page by page across chapters 107-111, a fellow author told me this might help since I condensed pages this might be my problem since they leave footprints, please excuse the inconvenience.**

The dreary gray and wet weather of the previous day had given way to a cool and sunny day, the perfect kind of day to welcome Rhett home. Wade was absorbed in studying the entrance test for the boy's school that Sally Brewton's nephew had attended and Ella was occupied in the kitchen. 

Under the watchful eye of Carlen, the little girl was learning some of the skills that her own mother had learned nearly twenty years before. When they had lived in the house on Peachtree Street, Scarlett had never bothered to make sure that Ella was learning the skills that were required of a young woman to run a household. Whether or not Ella ever had to utilize them, she should have them.

When they were girls, Scarlett, Suellen, and Careen had sat at the table in Tara's kitchen watching their mother dole out the supplies needed by the kitchen staff. The O'Hara girls had sat patently on the settee in Ellen's office with books of paper and pencils learning how to calculate the expenses that needed to be met to run a comfortable and happy home. She didn't want Ella to go into marriage not knowing how to run her own establishment. Not that she wanted her daughter to have to lift a finger, but still, it was important that Ella knew what it took to run a household.

Ella's skills at arithmetic were certainly lacking, though Scarlett as she corrected a column of haphazardly calculated numbers. She didn't expect her daughter to be able to swiftly tally a column of numbers in her head, after all she was only seven, but still…it was obvious in some cases Ella had only taken a guess as to what the total might be. And the child was not a particularly good guesser, she though ruefully, as she put the book aside.

She knew the door had been opened, and from the flash of color she caught before she ducked her head, she knew it was Rosemary. Damn her, thought Scarlett, one afternoon of peace and quiet, is that too much to ask?

"Scarlett?" Rosemary said softly. Making her wait for a reply, Scarlett finished the note she was making on a scrap of paper. Finally, she lifted her head; her feral eyes regarding her with unveiled suspicion. Rosemary stood on the threshold of Rhett's office, looking resigned to the task she'd chosen to perform. And that was precisely what this amounted to, thought Scarlett, whatever IT was. Whatever Rosemary wanted, she must have wanted very badly to put on such a downcast expression.

"Mother said you were in here working on the mine ledgers, may I speak with you for a minute?"

"Shall I time you?" asked Scarlett her voice equal parts sugar and malice.

Closing the door behind her, Rosemary offered a crooked smile as she pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and waved it several times. "Truce?"

"No." 


	108. calling a truce page 2

**See a/n in chapter 107**

Clearly taken aback, Rosemary pleaded gently, "Scarlett, let's be adults about…"

But she didn't feel like being an adult. She felt like pulling Rosemary's hair, slapping the sullen expression from her face, and then spitting in her eye for good measure. It was Friday afternoon; Rhett would be home in a few hours. It was damned obvious to Scarlett just what Rosemary wanted. "You said Miss Eleanor told you where I was? Have you apologized then?"

"No. I don't feel as though I have anything to apologize for, at least not to my mother." Rosemary's continued on in a hurry, her words tumbling out in a flood of forced sincerity. "I do owe you an apology. I had no right to say the things I said on Tuesday."

Snapping the ledger shut, Scarlett shook her head in disbelief. "You don't feel you should apologize to Miss Eleanor for calling her son a murderer, but you are sorry you called my husband a murderer? I may not be as book smart as you Rosemary Butler, but even I can recognize twisted logic when I see it. Would you sit down, if you keep stalking around you're going to make me want to throw something, at you," she added.

Dropping onto the sofa by the fire, Rosemary pouted. "You aren't going to accept an apology from me, are you?"

Knowing what Rosemary was trying to do because she'd taught her how to do it did have its advantages. Scarlett allowed her eyes to fill with tears till they shimmered softly. Drawing her lips up into a wounded, trembling pout of her own, Scarlett drawled sweetly, "Not when you don't mean it." She held the expression a minute or two before she allowed it to melt away as though it had never been.

Rosemay's pout was gone. "You missed your calling, you could have been quite the actress Scarlett."

"Why thank you, but in future, don't bother to waste that expression on me. It only works on men and they have to be fairly silly men at that. A word to the wise, it doesn't work on Rhett, at all. Also, another woman will only think you look like a little ninny if you try that expression out on them."

"Thank you for the pointers, I'll try and remember them."

"Oh, and incidentally, when you are going to be insincere, try and keep your eyes downcast and wring your hands a little. You look a little too pleased with yourself for me to think you are all that contrite. Ask Ella for some pointers, she is wonderful when it comes to making a pretty apology. Yours looks like a declaration of war. Now, as a wise man once said to me, shall we drop the moonlight and magnolias and get to what's brought you to see me?"

"You're right. I didn't especially come to offer an apology. I didn't think you'd accept one but I do want to declare a truce. If you and I are at each other's throats when Rhett gets home, he'll know that something went on between us while he was gone. And he wont stop till he finds out what."


	109. calling a truce page 3

**Our battle continues, FF net, why don't you like me, I like you**

**See A/n in chapter 106 if you are wondering why these are such short chapters**

**Missammy, I don't know why it won't let you review, thanks for letting me know**

"That will be the shortest interrogation in history Rosemary, I plan on telling him everything that's gone on. Right down to a certain disastrous trip to the flower market that I arranged." She smiled briefly, "I thought you'd see the pun in that. Flower market, arranged? No? Well, never mind. But, consider this a friendly warning, I am going to speak with Rhett tomorrow about everything, just as I should have three weeks ago when this whole mess started."

There was naked sympathy on Rosemary's face and despite her anger; Scarlett was nearly swayed by it. "Scarlett, you can't. He'll be furious."

She looked at Rosemary and there was something deeper than anything Rosemary had ever known in Scarlett's eyes. It was knowledge. The knowledge that she had put herself in an awful position and to extract herself there would be a price. "Yes, he will be."

"He might hate you."

"He might, but not as much as he will if I let this go on much longer. Maybe I didn't realize just how strongly he'd feel about you and Doctor Cross. I should have said something at the very start, but I didn't. I didn't want to rock the boat, so to speak, but I have to be honest with him. Honesty isn't my strong suit, so I am hoping your brother will appreciate the better late than never effort on my part."

"Maybe there's a way out of this, for you at least. I'd like to make a bargain with you."

"No Rosemary, no bargains, no ways out. No more avoiding things. I've made up my mind."

"Scarlett, please," she pleaded frantically, leaning forward with a gleam of desperation in her eyes. "I don't want to see Rhett take out his anger on you. Not so soon after you've made up. Jason is away with a patient. As soon as he comes back, I'll tell him that we have to go to Rhett. We'll ask for his permission for Jason to court me."

"And when he says no?"

"Then at least we'll know that we tried."

"Rosemary…"

"Why should you be the one that bears the brunt of this when you don't have to be? Besides, he'll be angry enough with me, and he'll want to kill Jason. He'll need someone to confide in. If he knows that you knew what was going on this whole time, he'll be angry and he'll be all alone. If you won't do this for my sake, then do it for Rhett's."

She could see the lifeline there before her; Rosemary had cast it out before her and the nausea and sleeplessness that had plagued her over the last three days felt as though it was about to subside. She could completely slip free from the tangled web of blame that a Cross, Butler pairing was bound to weave. She had never before considered herself a coward, but just this once she wanted to be.


	110. Calling a truce page 4

**See A/n in chapter 106 if you are wondering why these are such short chapters.**

** Thanks for understanding, I also pm'ed the webmaster to see if they can figure it out. **

"I appreciate the offer, its very generous of you, but I can't."

"You can. What are you going to gain from telling Rhett?

"Peace of mind."

"It's highly overrated, especially when it comes so dearly. Don't do this Scarlett. Just because you've suddenly found a conscience, don't do something so incredibly and pointlessly noble just because."

"It isn't just because. We promised there'd be no more lies between us."

"Scarlett, you've been lying to my brother for weeks. What does it matter if you don't tell him now, or at all? Aren't you tired of fighting?"

"And it's been on my mind ever waking moment."

Rosemary giggled suddenly. "Not every moment. Scarlett, tomorrow why do you and Rhett go over to the Landing, just the two of you? I can keep an eye on Ella and Wade and you two can have some time all alone. Not for ruining your life though, I am not playing nursemaid so you can ruin everything."

She looked thoughtful and Rosemary seized her chance, "Besides, I don't even know when Jason is coming back. Do you really want to tell Rhett so he just broods on it until Jason finally does get back? He's libel to do something crazy. And, like it or not, you have to see that you'd have a hand in that, we both would."

"Its charming when the student tries to outmaneuver the teacher," Scarlett commented idly.

"I am sure I don't know what you mean," replied Rosemary with a roll of her eyes.

"You should have attempted to stay on my good side a little bit longer, you could have honed your skills when it comes to duplicity. You are a terrible liar."

"Mama said the same thing the other day."

"She did?"

"Yes, she said that I have a terrible poker face."

"She's not wrong."

"I don't want to fight Scarlett. I like you very much, and I am sorry that I hurt you."


	111. Calling a truce page 5

**See A/n in chapter 106 if you are wondering why these are such short chapters.**

"Now that at least has a ring of sincerity." 

"I mean it. For whatever else, I shouldn't have said something that I knew would hurt you."

"So where does this leave us?"

"I don't know? I want us to be friends again. I've missed you, Sally's at home was no fun without you."

Scarlett tried to fight the urge to return Rosemary's smile. She did like her sister in law. She missed their recent friendship and confidences. She even missed having someone to sit down to tea with when Miss Eleanor was out doing good. "I won't listen to you badmouthing your brother, not to me, not in front of me," she cautioned.

"I understand. I shouldn't have said the things I did, especially not without any sort of proof. Rhett's done so much for me since father died, and I owe him a great deal. I should have remembered that."

Sniffing the air appreciatively, Scarlett smiled, "What is for dinner tonight, do you know?

Relief made Rosemary's eyes glow with happiness. She knew that Scarlett hadn't forgiven and their argument was a long time from being forgotten, but she was making an effort. "I know mama had them bring pheasants over from the Landing, so there'll be oyster dressing and some sort of potato, probably duchessed since those are Rhett's favorite."

"I didn't know that."

"Well," she smiled brightly, "Now you do. I'm very fond of them too. Our old cook before the war was wonderful, not that Carlen isn't, but Lucy was a treasure. She cooks for a hotel now over in Mount Pleasant, I think. She made the most delicious duchessed potatoes you'd ever want to taste. "

"We've sunk mighty low if you and I have resorted to discussing our favorite forms of potato preparation."

Smothering a fit of giggles, Rosemary nodded. "You may have a point, oh!" she exclaimed happily, "mama asked Carlen to make she crab soup. I think you'll really enjoy it, it's the signature dish of Charleston."

"I had it in New Orleans on my honeymoon with Rhett. I liked it well enough, but Rhett hates it."


	112. CAT Intact Thanks Everyone

**Ok, the webmaster fixed the problem as I was posting the other two chapters, but I cant delete the stupid previous chapters because of something I supposedly did (LOL, just like it was my fault it wouldnt let people review, thanks to everyone who PM'ed to let me know)**

**so here is all of What should have been chapter 107**

**calling a truce-**

The dreary gray and wet weather of the previous day had given way to a cool and sunny day, the perfect kind of day to welcome Rhett home. Wade was absorbed in studying the entrance test for the boy's school that Sally Brewton's nephew had attended, and Ella was occupied in the kitchen.

Under the watchful eye of Carlen, the little girl was learning some of the skills that her own mother had learned nearly twenty years before. When they had lived in the house on Peachtree Street, Scarlett had never bothered to make sure that Ella was learning the skills that were required of a young woman to run a household. Whether or not Ella ever had to utilize them, she should have them.

When they were girls, Scarlett, Suellen, and Careen had sat at the table in Tara's kitchen watching their mother dole out the supplies needed by the kitchen staff. The O'Hara girls had sat patently on the settee in Ellen's office with books of paper and pencils learning how to calculate the expenses that needed to be met to run a comfortable and happy home. She didn't want Ella to go into marriage not knowing how to run her own establishment. Not that she wanted her daughter to have to lift a finger, but still, it was important that Ella knew what it took to run a household.

Ella's skills at arithmetic were certainly lacking, thought Scarlett as she corrected a column of haphazardly calculated numbers. She didn't expect her daughter to be able to swiftly tally a column of numbers in her head, after all she was only seven, but still…it was obvious in some cases Ella had only taken a guess as to what the total might be. And the child was not a particularly good guesser, she though ruefully, as she put the book aside.

She knew the door had been opened, and from the flash of color she caught before she ducked her head, she knew it was Rosemary. 'Damn her', thought Scarlett, 'one afternoon of peace and quiet, is that too much to ask?'

"Scarlett?" Rosemary said softly. Making her wait for a reply, Scarlett finished the note she was making on a scrap of paper. Finally, she lifted her head; her feral eyes regarding her with unveiled suspicion. Rosemary stood on the threshold of Rhett's office, looking resigned to the task she'd chosen to perform. And that was precisely what this amounted to, thought Scarlett, whatever IT was. Whatever Rosemary wanted, she must have wanted very badly to put on such a downcast expression.

"Mother said you were in here working on the mine ledgers, may I speak with you for a minute?"

"Shall I time you?" asked Scarlett her voice equal parts sugar and malice.

Closing the door behind her, Rosemary offered a crooked smile as she pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and waved it several times. "Truce?"

"No."

Clearly taken aback, Rosemary pleaded gently, "Scarlett, let's be adults about…"

But she didn't feel like being an adult. She felt like pulling Rosemary's hair, slapping the sullen expression from her face, and then spitting in her eye for good measure. It was Friday afternoon; Rhett would be home in a few hours. It was damned obvious to Scarlett just what Rosemary wanted. "You said Miss Eleanor told you were I was? Have you apologized then?"

"No. I don't feel as though I have anything to apologize for, at least not to my mother," the next words came in a hurry, tumbling out in a flood of forced sincerity, "but I do owe you an apology. I had no right to say the things I said on Tuesday."

Snapping the ledger shut, Scarlett shook her head in disbelief. "You don't feel you should apologize to Miss Eleanor for calling her son a murder, but you are sorry you called my husband a murder? I may not be as book smart as you Rosemary Butler, but even I can recognize twisted logic when I see it. And would you sit down, if you keep stalking around you're going to make me want to throw something. At you," she added.

Dropping onto the sofa by the fire, Rosemary pouted. "You aren't going to accept an apology from me, are you?"

Knowing what Rosemary was trying to do because she'd taught her how to do it did have its advantages. Scarlett allowed her eyes to fill with tears till they shimmered softly. Drawing her lips up into a wounded, trembling pout of her own, Scarlett drawled sweetly, "Not when you don't mean it." She held the expression a minute or two before she allowed it to melt away as though it had never been.

"You missed your calling, you could have been quite the actress Scarlett."

"Why thank you, but in the future, don't bother to waste that expression on me. It only works on men. And they have to be fairly silly men at that. A word to the wise, it doesn't work on Rhett, at all. Also, another woman will only think you look like a little ninny if you try that expression out on them."

"Thank you for the pointers, I'll try and remember them."

"Oh, and incidentally, when you are going to be insincere, try and keep your eyes downcast and wring your hands a little. You look a little too pleased with yourself for me to think you are all that contrite. Ask Ella for some pointers, she is wonderful when it comes to making a pretty apology. Yours looks like a declaration of war. Now, as a wise man once said to me, shall we drop the moonlight and magnolias and get to what's brought you to see me?"

"You're right. I didn't especially come to offer an apology. I didn't think you'd accept one, but I do want to declare a truce. If you and I are at each other's throats when Rhett gets home, he'll know that something went on between us while he was gone. And he won't stop till he finds out what."

"That will be the shortest interrogation in history, Rosemary. I plan on telling him everything that's gone on. Right down to a certain disastrous trip to the flower market that I arranged." She smiled briefly, "I thought you'd see the pun in that. Flower market, arranged? No? Well, never mind. But, consider this a friendly warning, I am going to speak with Rhett tomorrow about everything, just as I should have three weeks ago when this whole mess started."

There was naked sympathy on Rosemary's face and despite her anger; Scarlett was nearly swayed by it. "Scarlett, you can't. He'll be furious."

She looked at Rosemary and there was something deeper than anything Rosemary had ever known in Scarlett's eyes. It was knowledge. The knowledge that she had put herself in an awful position and to extract herself there would be a price. "Yes, he will be."

"He might hate you."

"He might, but not as much as he will if I let this go on much longer. Maybe I didn't realize just how strongly he'd feel about you and Doctor Cross. I should have said something at the very start, but I didn't. I didn't want to rock the boat, so to speak, but I have to be honest with him. Honesty isn't my strong suit, so I am hoping your brother will appreciate the better late than never effort on my part."

"Maybe there's a way out of this, for you at least. I'd like to make a bargain with you."

"No Rosemary, no bargains, no ways out. No more avoiding things. I've made up my mind."

"Scarlett, please," she pleaded frantically, leaning forward with a gleam of desperation in her eyes. "I don't want to see Rhett take out his anger on you. Not so soon after you've made up. Jason is away with a patient. As soon as he comes back, I'll tell him that we have to go to Rhett. We'll ask for his permission for Jason to court me."

"And when he says no?"

"Then at least we'll know that we tried."

"Rosemary…"

"Why should you be the one that bears the brunt of this when you don't have to be? Besides, he'll be angry enough with me, and he'll want to kill Jason. He'll need someone to confide in. If he knows that you knew what was going on this whole time, he'll be angry and he'll be all alone. If you won't do this for my sake, then do it for Rhett's."

She could see the lifeline there before her; Rosemary had cast it out before her and the nausea and sleeplessness that had plagued her over the last three days felt as though it was about to subside. She could completely slip free from the tangled web of blame that a Cross, Butler pairing was bound to weave. She had never before considered herself a coward, but just this once she wanted to be.

"I appreciate the offer, its very generous of you, but I can't."

"You can. What are you going to gain from telling Rhett?

"Peace of mind."

"It's highly overrated, especially when it costs so dearly. Don't do this Scarlett. Just because you've suddenly found a conscience, don't do something so incredibly and pointlessly noble just because."

"It isn't just because. We promised there'd be no more lies between us."

"Scarlett, you've been lying to my brother for weeks. What does it matter if you don't tell him now, or at all? Aren't you tired of fighting?"

"It's been on my mind ever waking moment."

Rosemary giggled suddenly. "Not every moment. Scarlett, tomorrow why don't you and Rhett go over to the Landing, just the two of you? I can keep an eye on Ella and Wade and you two can have some time all alone. Not for ruining your life though, I am not playing nursemaid so you can ruin everything."

She looked thoughtful and Rosemary seized her chance, "Besides, I don't even know when Jason is coming back. Do you really want to tell Rhett so he just broods on it until Jason finally does get back? He's libel to do something crazy. And, like it or not, you have to see that you'd have a hand in that, we both would."

"Its charming when the student tries to outmaneuver the teacher," Scarlett commented idly.

"I am sure I don't know what you mean," replied Rosemary with a roll of her eyes.

"You should have attempted to stay on my good side a little bit longer, you could have honed your skills when it comes to duplicity. You are a terrible liar."

"Mama said the same thing the other day."

"She did?"

"Yes, she said that I have a terrible poker face."

"She's not wrong."

"I don't want to fight Scarlett. I like you very much, and I am sorry that I hurt you."

"Now that at least has a ring of sincerity."

"I mean it. For whatever else, I shouldn't have said something that I knew would hurt you."

"So where does this leave us?"

"I don't know? I want us to be friends again. I've missed you. Sally's at home was no fun without you."

Scarlett tried to fight the urge to return Rosemary's smile. She did like her sister in law. She missed their recent friendship and confidences. She even missed having someone to sit down to tea with when Miss Eleanor was out doing good. "I won't listen to you badmouthing your brother, not to me, not in front of me," she cautioned.

"I understand. I shouldn't have said the things I did, especially not without any sort of proof. Rhett's done so much for me since father died, and I owe him a great deal. I should have remembered that."

Sniffing the air appreciatively, Scarlett smiled, "What is for dinner tonight, do you know?

Relief made Rosemary's eyes glow with happiness. She knew that Scarlett hadn't forgiven and their argument was a long time from being forgotten, but she was making an effort. "I know mama had them bring pheasants over from the Landing, so there'll be oyster dressing and some sort of potato, probably duchessed since those are Rhett's favorite."

"I didn't know that."

"Well," she smiled brightly, "Now you do. I'm very fond of them too. Our old cook before the war was wonderful, not that Carlen isn't, but Lucy was a treasure. She cooks for a hotel now over in Mount Pleasant, I think. She made the most delicious duchessed potatoes you'd ever want to taste. "

"We've sunk mighty low if you and I have resorted to discussing our favorite forms of potato preparation."

Smothering a fit of giggles, Rosemary nodded. "You may have a point, oh!" she exclaimed happily, "mama asked Carlen to make she crab soup. I think you'll really enjoy it, it's the signature dish of Charleston."

"I had it in New Orleans on my honeymoon with Rhett. I liked it well enough, but Rhett hates it."

"No he doesn't. How could he? We always have it for special occasions," she bit her lip, "You may be right, I know we always have it for special occasions, but I don't know if Rhett's been here for any of them."

"He told me that he couldn't stand it and that was the real reason he wasn't received in Charleston. Because he is the only person in the history of Charleston not to like it."

"I had best go and ask mother, she would be broken hearted if everything wasn't just so for Rhett's homecoming. I wonder if it's too late to change it to something else."

Once Rosemary left, Scarlett tried to return her attention back to the ledgers, but her heart and mind were no longer in it. Could she allow Rosemary and Jason Cross to approach Rhett, thus erasing her involvement from the whole messy affair? She could, her desperate heart cried. He would never have to know that she'd known.

AH


	113. Coming out of a cage

**For Rupurt, I hope you'll like your new home...keep on singing.**

Friday, several hours before Rhett's arrival 

Sitting on the brocade bench that Penny had dragged next to the fireplace, Scarlett O'Hara Butler sat quietly, allowing Penny to work without distraction. Laid out on a small table next to the bench were the various tools Penny would need to fix the elaborate hairstyle Scarlett had decided on for Rhett's homecoming. She wanted him to look at her and find, in his eyes, the proof that to him she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

Penny was dividing her hair into three sections now, she could feel the girl's nimble fingers grazing her scalp as she worked and if she felt so inclined, she could look up and watch her at work. She had been pleasantly surprised when she had come upstairs to begin preparing for the evening. Penny had gotten Maingo to help move the large pier glass so that Scarlett could watch as Penny styled her hair for the evening.

She was certainly far more suited to Scarlett's temperament than Pansy had been. Pansy had hated when Scarlett wanted to watch her arrange hair. She claimed it made her as nervous as a cat to know that Scarlett was watching her work. In Scarlett's opinion, it didn't matter a whit to her what made Pansy uncomfortable. She was a ladies maid, not a lady; her feelings simply didn't enter into things. Penny, on the other hand, was completely focused on the task at hand and gave no indication what so ever that she was aware of Scarlett's scrutiny.

She also had the good sense, unlike Pansy and her predecessor Prissy, to keep her fingernails completely trimmed so as not to scratch Scarlett. It was little things like that, and the foreside to move the mirror, which had convinced Scarlett to offer her long-term employment.

Something Doctor Cross had told her the previous week had been on her mind and as she watched Penny work, she wondered if the girl could tell her anything about Doctor Cross that might be useful later, just in case she needed to be in a superior position for bargaining...or blackmailing. "Penny?"

"Mm'am," murmured Penny around several hairpins as she began to roll the center section into a thick coil.

"Would you take those pins out of your mouth please, I'd like to ask you a few questions."

Looking down, she saw Scarlett watching her in the mirror and she nodded, taking two pins she fixed them in the arrangement of hair before discarding the rest. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Your cousin works for Doctor Cross, doesn't she?"

At the mention of Doctor Cross's name, Penny's expression became wary. She took up the comb and a few more hairpins and began to draw it through Scarlett's hair making several sections that she then marked off with hairpins. "Yes ma'am. That'd be my cousin Tia. She's his housekeeper."

The girl's hands were trembling slightly, Scarlett could feel the tremors as she began to pin sections of hair under the central coil.

"Does she like working for him?"

The silence lasted several seconds as she busied herself with teasing a small piece of hair before she pinned it under the coil. "Miss Eleanor don't like the servants gossipin'." Her dark eyes were averted and Scarlett could not catch her attention in the mirror's reflection. She doubted it was a fear of Eleanor that made this girl so reluctant to discuss Doctor Cross.

"Penny, why is it that you're so upset? It isn't because of Miss Eleanor, and you've told me plenty of things about other people here in Charleston, so I would say that the rule against gossiping has been put aside. There's something else, are you afraid of Doctor Cross?"

"No ma'am. Doctor Cross has been real good to Tia and me. But he tole' me when I started here that he didn' wan' his business known so that if any of the Butler's was to start askin questions, I shoun't answer 'em."

Oh, he did, did he, thought Scarlett furiously? Who was he to make demands on her maid? What an arrogant bastard he was, truly he really was. Clearly, it was time to make Penny aware of just who it was she worked for. "I see," she commented benignly, "But you are my servant, not his. Isn't that so?"

Penny nodded quickly; Scarlett just caught the movement of Penny's kerchiefed head in the mirror. "Yes Miss Scarlett.

"And anyway, I don't want to know anything very personal," she said before smiling prettily, "I'm just bored sitting here trying to keep from moving.

In the three weeks Penny had worked for Scarlett she'd come to know when her mistress was lying, but there was no way to refuse her seemingly innocent request. Caught between the cat and the rat trap, Penny chose reluctantly."She said he's real easy to look after, doesn't cause a mess 'cept in his surgery, and he has George who cleans that up."

"George? Another cousin of yours?"

Looking mildly scandalized at the suggestion, Penny shook her head fiercely. "No ma'am. He's deaf and he only has half a tongue so he's mostly mute 'cause no one 'cept Doctor Cross can understand halfa what he says. Doctor Cross found him somewhere, the college maybe, and he felt bad for him because of him being sickly at the time and he cured him then hired him. He sleeps in the cellar at Doctor Cross's house."

"How very Christian of him, taking in that poor soul. What about you Penny, do you like Doctor Cross?"

Penny looked uncomfortable in the mirror's reflection. "I dunno'," she said self-consciously.

"Why not?"

"I don't think it's my place to say whether or not I like a white gentlemun. Not my business to like or not like 'im."

Scarlett's expression didn't change, but her mind was racing. Penny normally spoke well with grammar that showed she had had some sort of education, but when she was uncomfortable, it began to slip into the tradition speech of her slave ancestors. She did not like Scarlett's questions and the preoccupied way she was focusing on pining a lock of Scarlett's hair said that plainly.

"He told me that he let's you and your cousin run your business out of his kitchen, that's very kind of him."

"Yes ma'am, he does."

"Does he help with the preparations?"

"Miss Scarlett?" Said Penny, screwing her face up into a dogged look of courage.

"Yes?"

"Doctor Cross is a good man. He's a little prickly, but he is good to Tia. If he tolde you about helping us make sure we don't kill nobody with our cures, he must really like you. But please, don't tell no one else about all that. There's people don't like white Doctors getting involved doctoring to coloreds. People might think he was doing something' bad. There's some that would maybe try and hurt him or his property if they thought he was the one doing the cures and not me and Tia."

"I see. Don't worry Penny; I shall keep that information entirely to myself. I think it's very responsible of him to supervise you. I wouldn't like to see trouble made for him because of it."

"You different from a lot of other white folk, Miss Scarlett. I mean that ina' good way, but you is. I thought that from the moment Aunt Carlen talked about you coming to stay."

"I don't think I'm so different, not really. I just don't think people should be left to be ill if someone can help them."

"Believe me, that makes you different. There's white folk what think we should have educations, but there are other people who think that if we do, then the world is gonna end."

"Did you go to school Penny?"

"Not exactly. My mama, that's Aunt Carlen's sister, and a couple other mama's paid a lady to come and teach us how to talk and do hair and good manners and how to take care of clothes so we could be ladies maids."

"I see."

Penny began brushing out the loose pieces of hair that would form the bunch of curls at the base of the center coil.

"Has Doctor Cross courted anyone since he's come back from France?"

Her earlier openness faded, to be replaced by the same reluctance she'd displayed earlier. "I dunno."

"Oh, but you must. Surely, Tia would have mentioned it to you. I grew up on a plantation Penny, our darkies knew our neighbors business out in the cabins days before we did in the big house.

She sighed faintly. "No ma'am, hasn't been no one. He came back and Miss Virginia took up a lot of his time. He's real fond of her, on account of her raising him since he was a little one. Then she went up North to stay with one of their cousins, I think in Baltimore, and he took her up there. When he come back, he was busy teaching at the college and he had a lot of new patients 'cause it got around that he's a real good doctor."

"He lives in such a big house, I just thought he might have bought it with a sweetheart in mind."

"He bought it for Miss Virginia. He wanted her to have a nice, big house to call hers."

"Do you know his sister?"

"I meet her a few times when I'd help Tia with spring cleaning."

"Did you like her?"

"I…" She caught Scarlett's eyes in the mirror and knew her mistress wanted a more detailed answer than 'I dunno.' Heaving a sigh to let Scarlett know that her answers were now coming under duress, "It's hard to say. She was quiet, usually reading a book or working on a fancy piece. Doctor Cross sets a store by her, he listens to everything she says like she's a Queen. You can tell, even if he don't agree with her, he listens to everything she got to say."

"Is she pretty?"

The question clearly unsettled Penny. "I suppose so."

"Well, what does she look like?"

Penny looked at Scarlett's face as she deliberated the wisdom of answering honestly. "She looks like you Miss Scarlett, she's older than you, but she got the same hair 'cept she has these streaks of gray, but not gray, I guess they more white than gray. She's got green eyes too, not as pretty as what yours are because they aren't as green as yours, they got blue in them too."

A chill swept through her raising gooseflesh. "Doctor Cross's sister looks like me?"

"She's older, nearly Captain Butler's age I guess, but she does look a lot like you. When I was helping Tia clean Miss Virginia's bedroom, I saw this big painting she got of her and her brother, the other one, and she's a lot younger. She look then a lot like you do now."

She found herself suddenly curious. . Doctor Cross had told her that she reminded him of his sister. Penny had furthered supported that with her admission that there were physical similarities between both women. She had assumed that Doctor Cross had meant a mental and emotional resemblance, not physical. She would have liked to meet Virginia Cross, or to even see her across a crowded room so she could see if what Penny said was so. Did they share just a passing resemblance or was it more than that?

It did made sense, in one respect, that she resembled Virginia Cross. Rhett had told her that he'd felt an instant attraction to her the day of Ashley's birthday, was it because he preferred dark haired women of a particular type and sought them out?

"Miss Scarlett?"

"Yes Penny?"

"Doctor Cross doesn't like anybody gossiping 'bout Miss Virginia, so I'd be much obliged if you didn't say that I said anything 'bout her. Why'd you want to know 'bout her anyway?"

"I'm just curious, I suppose. Doctor Cross has been treating me since my accident and I don't know very much about him. All I know is that the Butler's and the Cross's have a complicated past."

"Yes ma'am, 'cause she was part of the reason Doctor Cross's brother, Master Jason went dueling with Captain Butler. That's the reason Captain Butler's papa threw him out, on account of what happened with Master Jason and Miss Virginia, I mean."

"You know about that?"

"Everyone knows that Miss Scarlett. Captain Butler is," she paused, searching for a word.

"Notorious?

"I don't exactly know what that means?"

"It means that everyone's heard of him."

She nodded, " Yes ma'am, then that's just exactly right."

"Do you know if Doctor Cross's sister will be coming home any time soon?"

"Tia says that she asked Doctor Cross because she wanted to know around Christmas time, but he said that she likes it where she's at. Nobody knows her there and everybody knows her here. I guess that makes her notorious," she said the word slowly, trying to get a feel for using it in conversation. With great care, Penny began to twist locks of Scarlett's hair around the iron rod she'd just heated in the fire.

Scarlett fell silent, wanting Penny to not have to work with distractions while she held a hot iron next to her delicate skin. She watched as the girl flawless executed curl after curl till there was a soft bunch of tendrils escaping the carefully placed coil Penny had pinned up.

"There," she said finally, taking a step back to survey Scarlett. "It looks real nice like that." She picked up a hand mirror and angled it so Scarlett could see the back.

"It does. Thank you Penny,"

"Miss Scarlett?"

"Yes."

"I just thought of something, the dress you picked needs a corset, how we gonna get you into one? Can you stand long enough to hold onto the post?"

"I suppose I'll have to find a way to manage, won't I?" The dress she had chosen was one that Rhett had never seen her in because she'd never had a chance to wear it. She had ordered it on a whim from a fashion house in Paris whose existence she'd learned of through one of her carpetbagger acquaintances. You sent them your measurements and they made the dress slightly larger so that you could have it custom fitted once it arrived.

She had received it back from Mrs. Allison in Atlanta the week before Bonnie had died. Despite it being a light shell pink and not blue, Bonnie had proclaimed it the prettiest dress that her mother had ever owned and so she had intended to wait for Bonnie's birthday to wear it to make it all the more special.

After Bonnie had died, she had buried the dress, unworn, near the back of her closet, intending to never set eyes on it again. Another whim made her search it out when she was packing her trunks for Charleston. She wanted to have Bonnie near her as she attempted to win back her father, and the dress she had so loved seemed like a lucky charm. Tonight was a special occasion. It was the first time Rhett would return from an extended trip and find her happy to see him.

His overnight at the Landing earlier during their reconciliation didn't count, at least not to her mind. That was just a single night. The last week had been a true test of just how deeply her feelings ran. She still missed him every bit as much, five days after his departure, as she had on the morning that he'd left.

"Maybe I should try the dress first, just to see how much we should lace me?" She was hoping that she might just fit it, even without a corset. She had lost some weight during her illness; perhaps it would be just enough.

Penny looked doubtful. "It looks like it's got a real small waist, do you want me to get the tape out and measure it?"

"I don't think that will be necessary, let's just try, shall we?"

Penny, despite being a superior maid to Prissy and Pansy, could not help but wear the look that on Mammy would have led to the voicing of the opinion, Why you being stubborn like a mule Miss Scarlett.

Thinking about Mammy made her heart ache and she was short to cover the sadness she felt. "Well? What are you waiting for, Captain Butler is going to be home soon and I have to be downstairs and dressed before Miss Eleanor's guests arrive."

"Put your arms up, Miss Scarlett." Penny gently lowered the dress over Scarlett's head, careful not to displace a single lock of hair. Seated before the mirror, she admired the soft barely pink coloring of the dress as it accentuated the contrast between her creamy skin and dark hair.

"Miss Scarlett, I can only button it half way up," said Penny a moment later.

"Are you sure?" The thought of trying to confine her self into a corset after three weeks without was not an attractive thought.

"If I pull the back together any more, the buttons are going to pop."

Scarlett studied her reflection, Penny was right. The cut of the dress was beautiful, but without a corset, she could not wear it. The fabric stretched tautly across her bosom, disrupting the square cut of the neckline.

"I could ask Miss Rosemary to help," said Penny.

"No!" Realizing that she had been overly forceful, she tried to soften her refusal before Penny became suspicious. "No, Miss Rosemary should be dressing as well, if I give her an excuse to stop, she'll probably wear the same dress she's had on all day."

"Do you want me to help you over to the bed, if you can wrap your arms around the post, I can try and lace you up fast so you don't have to stand to long."

"I can manage on my own."

Penny, true to her word, tried to work as quickly as possible, before Scarlett made her way over to the bed, she had found a corset and an extra set of laces, just in case.

"If I hurt you Miss Scarlett, just…"

"Let's just get this over with," said Scarlett through gritted teeth, as she drew herself closer to the carved post. The image of Rhett thrusting her away and into the post came to her mind and she cringed.

Penny immediately stopped hooking the corset. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, just hurry."

Wrapping a lace double around each hand, Penny took a step back and gave a forceful tug. It was all Scarlett could do to keep from gasping. The whalebone was digging into her lungs and she nearly told Penny to stop when the girl pulled on the lacing again. Blue sparks danced before Scarlett's eyes as she fought to keep from sliding to the floor in a faint.

Watching her Mistress lightly shake, Penny spoke hesitantly, "Miss Scarlett, I don't think…"

"I don't give a damn what you think, just pull."

Later on, Penny swore that she hadn't meant to pull as hard as she did, but Scarlett knew that she had driven the girl to it. With another step back, Penny pulled on the laces until the corset edges were completely touching.

Bile rose into her throat as the corset forced her to take shallow, nearly panting breaths. The carvings on the post cut into her soft hands, but she could not force herself to relax her grip.

Scarlett's labored breathing panicked Penny. "Miss Scarlett! Are you alright, can you breath alright?"

"Hand me my cane," she said as her vision slowly cleared.

"Do you want me to get Miss Eleanor or Miss Rosemary? I…"

"Penny, I told you, hand me my cane. I'm fine."

"You look real pale, like you're gonna be sick or something," she persisted.

"I am not going to be sick," Scarlett said, her chin tilting up as she drew herself up to her full height, "Now, will you hand me my cane."

Penny was careful to stay by Scarlett's side until she was seated once more. This time the dress buttoned without difficulty and Scarlett was able to admire herself in the mirror.

She was still feeling a little lightheaded, but it would pass once she became use to wearing a corset. Rhett had been right about women and corsets, they were cages that kept you from breathing properly. She wanted to wear the dress she had on because it was a special dress for a special occasion, but after tonight there will be no more cages for me, she thought as she rubbed some pompadour on her lips. Mrs. Benson had made it abundantly clear that there would be no more dresses out of her normal work routine, but there were other seamstresses in Charleston. She would have any of the dresses that needed corsets let out and perhaps she'd have a few new ones made as well.

New dresses for a new life. One without cages.


	114. In time

**Merry Christmas (it gets a smidge adult further down, no nudity, but heavy petting)**

**I own nothing that Margaret already called dibs on.**

Having heard Eleanor's door close and Rosemary talking to Wade and Ella as they passed her door, Scarlett knew she would be the last one downstairs. Penny had nervously fussed over her before she had sent the girl downstairs to tell Miss Eleanor she'd be down directly. The shortness of breath she'd experienced earlier was gone now that she had become accustomed to the restrictions of a corset once again. Stooping slightly to pick up her cane, she had forgotten how nice it was to be able to bend from one's waist. With the stays nearly piercing her if she moved the wrong way, she could only continue to keep her carriage erect as she made her way to the top of the stairs.

The cheerful voices of Miss Eleanor's dinner guests carried up the stairs, giving Scarlett pause. She knew from being in Charleston over the last five months that these people had learned to find joy in anything that joy was to be found in. The Yankees had never forgiven Charleston its role in starting the war. Fort Sumter was a constant reminder to the Yankees and, because of that brick and mortar reminder, they took their own sort of grim cheer in grinding Charleston and its people down under the brutal heel of a constant military presence.

Julia Ashley had managed to hang onto some of her former prosperity, but in no way had she retained the bulk of her fortune. Some of it had gone to the war effort and even now, a sizable share of the earnings of Ashley Barony, her plantation, went toward helping the other members of her family keep themselves fed and clothed. She was investing with some of her niece's husbands in various ventures in the hopes that one day the family would regain their pre-war eminence.

Sally Brewton and her husband Miles owed much of their current success to Rhett and his willingness to stake them in their horse breeding business. During one of their evening talks, Rhett had explained to her that before the war, Sally had raised some of the south's finest horseflesh. Talking with Sally one afternoon, Scarlett found, to her delight, that the Brewton's were acquainted with Beatrice Tarleton and had met the Beatrice's numerous children several times before the war.

The large, wild stallion that had arrived the same day the twins had been expelled from the University of Georgia just before the start of the war had been purchased from Sally's stock. When Scarlett told Sally of the difficulties Beatrice had had in bring the horse from the station to her stable, Sally had laughed, telling her that she remembered the black stallion and his unruly temperament very well. She had been to Clayton county several times before the war and on further reflection, she was nearly certain that she'd been introduced to Gerald O'Hara. It gave Scarlett a warm, unaccustomed feeling of close-knit ties to discover that she and Sally had people and places in common.

The Brewton's and Julia were doing well for themselves, but there were many people that weren't. Initially, Scarlett had dismissed Rosemary's words about Charleston drawing tight it's collective belts in deference to their neighbors who were not so fortunate, but looking over the railing at the two young girls standing next to Julia's niece Caroline, she realized that Rosemary had had Ella's best interests at heart. The girls were neatly attired, but their dresses were obviously not new and had been treated carefully by their respective owners.

The thump of her cane on the stairs caught Miss Eleanor's attention. Rhett's mother turned from Julia and her great nieces to greet Scarlett but the greeting on her lips died as she took in Scarlett's appearance. Shock contorted Eleanor's face before she was able to compose herself, but even with the smooth bland expression that Scarlett always thought of as the Butler mask in place, there was still a grim look of recognition in Eleanor's normally soft eyes.

"Scarlett, she managed finally, "don't you look pretty. Is that a new dress?"

Self-conscious now in the face of Miss Eleanor's discomfort; Scarlett smoothed the delicate braided ribbon adorning the waist. "No, well I've never worn it before, but I've had it for some time."

"God in heaven," proclaimed Julia, "I don't know how I missed it before, but you are just the image of Solange Robillard when she was your age. I thought you resembled her a little when I first saw you, but my dear, you've more of her blood in you than I would have thought possible. She wore that same color often, especially as she grew older. It suits you, just as it always did her."

Scarlett could not meet her mother-in-law's eye. It was not just the shade of her gown that made her resemble her grandmother; it was the way Penny had arranged her hair that furthered the resemblance between herself and the late Solange Robillard. In an attempt to look her best, she'd subconsciously led Penny to style her hair in an updated version of the tumbled upsweep that her grandmother had worn in the portrait that hung in the formal parlor at Tara.

She had always thought her grandmother to be one of the most beautiful women she'd ever seen in the flesh or in a picture. In her portrait, she projected an air of haughtier and self-confidence that had made her seem both alluring and unattainable. Was it any wonder she'd chosen to emulate her when she had admired her likeness for years?

"Eleanor, you knew Scarlett's grandparent's fairly well because of your brother Carey and Eulaine Robillard. Don't you think Scarlett looks just like her?"

"I suppose so," answered Eleanor neutrally not looking directly at Scarlett.

Julia caught Eleanor's gaze and quirked a brow, questioning her friend's out of character behavior. Eleanor moved her shoulders slightly, in something that was nearly a shrug of dismissal. Julia narrowed her eyes slightly before gesturing to the girls at her side. "Scarlett, you already know Caroline." Caroline made graceful curtsy.

"It's a pleasure to see you again Mrs. Butler."

"It's nice to see you again, Caroline. Ella will be glad to see you, she's talked at great length about you, I believe you've made quite an impression."

"She is such a sweet little girl," said Caroline demurely.

Julia allowed herself a small smile. She was always pleased with Caroline, especially in social settings. The girl would be one of the most sought after belle's when her time came, of that, Julia had no doubts. "This is Lillian and this is Alice. They are the daughters of my brother's daughters."

Bewildered by the implications of Julia's introduction, Scarlett smiled. "How nice to have company for Caroline while she stays with you Miss Julia."

Julia callously dismissed Scarlett's suggestion with a wave of her hand. "It's a nuisance, I feel like I am running a home for wayward girls. Lillian, Alice, don't you have something to say or do when you are introduced to someone?"

Both girls made curtseys. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," they both murmured politely.

"It's very nice to meet you, how long will you be staying with your aunt?" asked Scarlett.

When neither answered, Julia impatiently rolled her eyes. "Don't both speak at once, Lillian or Alice, would one of you answer Mrs. Butler."

"I want to go home," declared Alice, "Mama said if I wanted to, I could."

"She told you that, did she? Madelia would say that," scoffed Julia.

Eleanor took pity on Julia's nieces. "Caroline, would you show Lillian and Alice the breakfast room, Wade and Ella are already in there with Sally's nephew playing a game."

"Yes Miss Eleanor," smiling at Scarlett, Caroline took Alice's hand. "Aunt Julia is right, that color does suit you, Mrs. Butler."

When the girls had left, Julia grimaced. "It would appear that witlessness can be handed down from one generation to the next. Alice's mother, my niece Madelia, is one of the most vapid creatures I've ever encountered. She was lucky to have been a beauty when she was younger. There was just enough room in her head to memorize dance steps and even that was pushing her abilities to extremes."

"Lillian looks like her father," said Eleanor, in an attempt to change the subject.

"Somehow I doubt that paunch he carries and the balding he thinks he is concealing will look as charming on her when she grows up," replied Julia tartly.

Eleanor made a polite reply that Scarlett missed. Hanging in the air, the smell coming from the kitchen made Scarlett's stomach spasm painfully. It was a blend of sharp, contrasting scents. There was a hint of leeks, which she could place immediately. The other scent, the heavier, nearly sickening one, she could only nearly place as being familiar.

"Scarlett?"

Julia and Eleanor were regarding her with visible concern. "Are you feeling well?" asked Eleanor.

"Fine, thank you."

Reaching out, Eleanor took Scarlett's hand in her own. "You look a little pale, come in the parlor and sit down. Miles and Sally are here already and Rosemary came down a little while ago."

She nodded, grateful to get away from the smell wafting through the house from the kitchen. It was something she knew, but could not name. Something that she had not had in years and whatever it was, it made her stomach clench painfully. On top of everything else, her stays were too tight for comfort. No matter how pretty she looked, she would look very foolish if she fainted before Carlen finished serving the first course.

After nearly a half an hour of small talk, Eleanor glanced at the clock over the mantle and declared that despite Rhett's intentions, he'd either missed his train or it was delayed.

"We'll start without him, if he made his train, he might make it here shortly."

"Shouldn't we wait?" asked Scarlett. In Atlanta, they'd always sat down to meals as a family. Even when things were at the worst, they'd waited to sit down to dinner until she had come home from the store or the mills and Rhett had come home from the bank. It was only after they'd lost Bonnie that things had changed. The first night the children had been in Charleston, Scarlett had caught Rhett's eye with a tremulous smile, knowing he was as aware as she was of the child that was missing.

"No darling, Rhett always tells us to start without him. The railroads are so unpredictable; he could be delayed until late this evening. Don't worry; I'll make sure Carlen makes him up a plate and keeps it warm."

As they gathered around the dining room table, she could not help but notice the empty chair that sat vacant, waiting for Rhett to arrive. Privately, she felt it wrong to start dinner without the guest of honor, but Eleanor insisted that Rhett was generally late when he took the train from Atlanta. There was a hot, swift dart of jealously that stabbed Scarlett's vanity. Never had Rhett bothered to let her know when he would be arriving in Atlanta, not even after they were married. When he would take infrequent trips, he would simply arrive home without so much as a word of warning.

The day he had reappeared with Bonnie after their trip had been a complete surprise. She had feared that he would never come home. She had been meaning to ask Miss Eleanor about that visit, she wanted her to tell her anything she might remember so that she could find another little piece of her daughter to hold on to.

During her reflections, Carlen and Penny had begun to carry in the soup and loaves of just baked bread. The spicy, sharp tang of whatever was in the covered tureen filled Scarlett's nostrils and her stomach wrenched painfully as she fought a wave of nausea.

"Scarlett, you look like you've seen a ghost, what is it?" Rosemary squeezed her hand lightly, "Would you like to go outside for some air?"

She could only nod slightly but even that motion threatened her shaky grasp on her stomach. It was radishes. She had finally placed the smell coming from the tureen. Carlen had replaced the she crab soup with a radish and leek soup. Earlier, she had been unable to place the smell because she had not allowed a radish in any kitchen under a roof she owned since that distant afternoon at Twelve Oaks when she had laid on the ground outside the partially burnt out slave quarters, vomiting repeatedly until there was nothing left in her stomach.

She could nearly taste that radish, even after so many years. It had been old and coarse and so peppery that tears had streamed down her face. Her stomach had heaved immediately and she had lain there, vomiting violently, her hands scrabbling at the red earth, while the cabins and trees spun swiftly around her.

The very thought of radishes made her ill, they sparked a sensory memory that had stayed with her no matter how much money she had or what was served on her table.

Sally began to push her chair back. "Scarlett?"

She swallowed, her throat working convulsively. "I'm fine, I'm not really very hungry. I'm going to sit outside and wait for Rhett," she pushed her own chair back, the squeal of the wood against the floor made her cringe.

"I'll come with you," offered Rosemary.

"No. Thank you."

She hurried from the dinning room as fast as she could, leaving behind a table of bewildered friends and family.

Outside in the cool March night air, Scarlett was able to draw in gulp after gulp of fresh, salt scented air. She nearly stumbled in her haste to sit on the porch swing. Her nausea was clearing and her head had stopped spinning as she gently used her cane to make the swing rock slightly.

She remembered more than she wished about that afternoon, the afternoon she'd gone to Twelve Oaks hoping to root through the gardens to find something with which to feed her family. She had made life altering decisions that afternoon, lying on the dirt, grit and dust from the radish in her parched mouth.

The south, the old south was dead. It could never come back, not without its young men. Throughout the South for years after the war, there would be bitter men and women who could only look back across the years to what had been. They would dwell for the rest of their lives in houses long burned. The women would dream of dancing with men who were long in their graves. They would cling to memories that would hurt and cause wounds to continually fester without the chance of scabs forming that would lead toward healing. She knew those men and women; she had found their kind in Atlanta and Charleston. Knowing that she could not live that way, she had decided that she was never going to look back.

How young she had been then, she though pityingly, she had been a fool to think that she could so neatly shelve that past as one would shelve a book or a jar of preserves. She had never truly gotten over the deaths of Ellen and Gerald. She thought of them often. She had never forgotten the tense moments she'd spent waiting for the clouds to blow away from the face of the moon to reveal whether or not Tara had withstood the devastation of war.

How could she think that she could put those things behind her by simply willing herself not to think of them? Those memories, they were what had driven her to try and succeed against the fate she'd been dealt. She had never forgotten the hunger of those years. But, no matter how hard she had tried to put her past behind her, she had also never forgotten the beauty of her mother's voice asking the Lord to bless her family.

She would never forget her mother, taking her in her arms on the morning of her wedding to Charles and praying that God would keep her heart light and her days happy. Every time she looked at Toby, she could not help but hear her father whistling to his hounds.

She had never really stopped remembering things and people who were dead, she had never, despite what she'd told herself, stopped remembering a way of living that had gone forever.

That afternoon, among the black ruins of Twelve Oaks, she had lost something that she had never known. She had lost the self she might have been had the war never come. In deciding that the past was irretrievable and therefore worthless, she had lost more than she would ever know.

Looking out into the darkness, there were new thoughts in her head, thoughts that would have been foreign once, given her reluctance to examine her self for hidden truths. But she was growing older and now, with so little to occupy her normally busy mind she had begun to examine herself, only to discover things that were unpleasant. Unpleasant because they shook the very foundation of the person she'd made herself believe she was.

She had lost the people she had loved most so she had tried to close herself off to loving anyone at all. She had lost nearly everyone she'd ever allowed herself to care for, so she had occupied herself with pursuing money. She had befriended carpetbaggers because she hasn't cared about them, what did it matter if they came or went? They were disposable, not one of them held any sort of place in her limited affection. Out of her three children, she had only shown affection for Bonnie because she had reminded her of when she had been happiest, as a little girl at Tara.

She had clung to loving Ashley because he belonged to Melly, so she could never really lose him. It was safe to love him because she could not have him, whereas she had fought against loving Rhett because she had been terrified of losing him. When she had thought he had a sweetheart in New Orleans, she had been jealous of that unknown woman. She had claimed that it was Rhett's friendship she would have missed, but that had been such a blatant lie. She was afraid she would lose him.

She couldn't lose him, Rosemary was right, if he knew the part she played in Rosemary's romance with Doctor Cross, he might hate her. She would take the devil's bargain Rosemary had offered. It was the only way.

The gate creaked opened and her head came up. His valise was in one hand and his wide brimmed panama hat was titled at a jaunty angle. He was home, after what seemed like months, he was home at last. The shadows concealed her and, for a moment, she was able to watch him without his knowing.

He was looking toward the dining room windows, probably speculating on whether or not they'd sat down to dinner without him. There was an eagerness on his face that she took for happiness at being home once more. She couldn't imagine that such a look could be for her alone, but then the swing creaked slightly and his gaze fell on her. He suddenly grinned and she knew then that he wasn't just glad to be home for home's sake, he was glad to come home because he was coming home to her.

She came to her feet as quickly as she could manage, wishing she could run to him and fling herself into his arms. There was nothing in the world so sure and so comforting as being in Rhett's arms. She wanted only to run her hand through his crisp, black hair and lose herself in him for as long as she could before she'd have to share him with everyone inside.

He paused at the bottom step and looked up. Her smile was one that was meant for him and him alone. It touched her luminous eyes; giving them a warmth and depth that made him certain that at last there were only two people in his bed. Without a moment's hesitation, he smiled back. "I missed you," he said simply.

Moving out further from the shadows, her pale skin glowed in the moonlight. "I missed you too. You've missed the soup course," she told him.

"She-crab," he said knowingly.

"It was, until I reminded your mother that you dislike it."

He came up the steps to stand before her. "How very thoughtful of you, I've always wondered why my mother can not accept that I can not stand it," he rested his hands on her partially bared shoulders, "although, at present I am far more curious as to just what you are doing out here without any sort of a wrap. You'll make yourself sick again."

"I couldn't be bothered with a wrap, I was making a desperate escape."

"Why? What happened?"

"Carlen changed the soup from She-crab to radish and leek."

He slid his gloved hands down her arms. The slightly rough, yet smooth texture of the suede on her bare flesh was intoxicating. A sigh escaped her lips and he chuckled softly, before he tilted her chin up. She watched him as he studied her, an expression of concern and sympathy on his face. "How long did you last?"

"Just long enough for Carlen to put the tureen on the table and take off the lid."

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he drew her to his chest before lightly kissing her forehead. "I forgot to tell mother to ban them from the house."

"You're forgiven," she said, tipping her head back so she could look at him again, "I wanted to be the first to see you."

"And so you are."

"I.." they both spoke at once.

"After you," he offered gallantly.

"No, please after you," she smiled pleasantly, "I insist."

"What I have to say, it'll keep."

"I've been told that we are having your favorite potato dish."

"I see. That is something of a pressing nature. I'm glad I allowed you to go first."

"What else could I have to say, anything that needs saying, well I figure, it's your turn to go first this time."

He started to laugh, but he caught himself and glowered at her. "My turn, how the hell do you figure that?"

One brow arched delicately. "Really Captain Butler, there's no need to swear. It's very simple. I said I love you first, I told you that I'd miss you first before you left for Atlanta, therefore, it is now your turn to swell my head with…"

"If you recall, I just told you I missed you, and I did it first."

"Just as you should have."

He laughed knowingly. "If my memory serves me correctly, I am the one who said I love you first, as well as a great many other things that night I was overcome by your…" he glanced down to the bare flesh above her neckline, "charms." Even in the darkness, he could see that she was blushing. "But if me baring my soul first makes you happy, so be it. I missed you and the children very much. I found myself going to the bank to work because after all the noise and chaos around here, I couldn't get any work done in the comfort of a private suite. Have I missed anything exciting here?"

She tilted her head thoughtfully. "Toby ate a pair of your sister's shoes. Luckily, they were those awful two tone ones. I have since been encouraging him to have her Sunday hat for desert, but he remains uncooperative. Wade taught Ella to play dominos and regrets it greatly. She had since bilked him out of at least forty five cents. She cheats, though we've yet to figure out how. I've missed you terribly, so much so that I am wondering if anyone would notice if we skipped dinner and went upstairs."

"Scarlett O'Hara turning down food to spend time with me, if I wasn't certain you loved me before, I am now."

Throwing his hat on the swing, he then lowered his mouth to hers. He kissed her deeply, hoping that she knew what was in his heart, he'd told her over the last few weeks, but I love you seemed something so incidental in the face of just how much he needed her.

Without a moment's hesitation, she kissed him back, wanting him to understand just how much she had missed him throughout the week. He teased her, opening her mouth with his tongue before pulling back slightly to brush her cheek and the skin at the base of her throat with his lips.

She braced herself against his chest, her hands lightly grasping his shirt. Beneath her hands, she could feel the rippling of his chest muscles as they leapt at her touch. Penny's carefully arranged masterpiece tumble down around her shoulders as he threaded his large, powerful hands into her hair before framing her face with his palms.

Finally, after kissing every inch of her face but her lips, he took them in a kiss that nearly made her faint. She opened her mouth to cry out some mindless, passion driven noise, but he took advantage and began to circle her tongue with his own until she attempted to mimic him.

He spread her lips wider and devoured her; while he brushed his fingers against her fabric clad breasts. Accidentally she bit his lip to stop her self from crying out causing him to laugh softly into her mouth. Scarlett strained against him, wanting desperately to be somewhere completely alone with him. Feeling her need, he drew back slightly. Cradling her head in his large hands, he kissed her till she was trembling violently.

"You're shivering," he teased, "let's go inside."

"No," she whispered, her voice strained as she tried to compose herself. "If we do that, everyone will want to speak to you and I don't want to share you, not yet. I've waited all week for you to come home; they can wait a little longer." She stood on tiptoe, slightly unsteady without her cane for balance. He waited, allowing her to take control.

She was the aggressor now; her delicate hands drew his head down until his mouth met hers, her tongue parting his lips shyly so that she could kiss him as he so often did her. "I love you so much," she whispered breathlessly and she moved closer to him, "you know that now don't you? I can't lose you, not again."

He was taken by the fierce intensity in her voice, the way her eyes glistened with what looked like tears worried him and he held her close, her reminder about how close she had come to losing him spurred him to tell her some of the things he'd learned during his week away. "I love you Scarlett, I used to pretend that there were a hundred things that drew me to Atlanta, anything to convince myself it wasn't you that made me come back again and again. But with you here, all I wanted to do the whole time I was there was come back here."

The curtains in the dinning room twitched slightly and there was a shadowy form silhouetted against the fabric.

"I suppose we should go inside," she conceded reluctantly.

"Not just yet," he told her, before moving her back until her shoulder blades touched one of the smooth, rounded columns that supported the second story balcony overhead.

They were in the shadows now, entirely exposed, and yet concealed by the night. She felt wicked, knowing that any minute someone could come out to check on her. She wanted to stop him, to tell him to wait until they were behind closed doors. But she needed him, needed to feel him; feel the heat of his body through her clothes, needed to feel his hands resting on her hips. She needed him.

Slowly, so that he could look into her eyes, he bowed his head, brushing kisses down her throat until he reached the exposed rise of her breast. His moustache tickled her skin and she clung to him, dizzy with sensations that she had never thought herself capable of experiencing.

"Now," he said smiling angelically, "we can go inside."

Her eyes had a mutinous light shinning in them and he knew she would be short with anyone who tried to overstay their welcome this evening. The knowledge that his wife was counting the minutes till she could hurry him upstairs and into her bed made it very difficult to do the proper thing.

How simple it would be to sneak around to the side door and steal up the back steps. But the porters would be arriving with his luggage any minute and the arrival of Jack and Jill would require his presence and an explanation to his mother who'd been more than patient with the circus her once quiet home had become. The thought of his mother pounding on their bedroom door, demanding to know just where they were going to keep Jack and Jill, was less than desirable.

He helped her to the swing and tried to put her hair back into order, but it refused to cooperate. She smiled sweetly. "The breeze is so strong tonight, it ruined my hair."

"That's your story?"

"That's the truth sir," she fluttered her lashes coyly, "are you calling me a liar, sir?"

"I would never call you a liar," he lifted a lock of her hair and traced a lazy figure eight on her throat, "but Sally will."

Laughing, she withdrew the last few pins and placed them on the windowsill. "I've seen the way Miles and Sally look at one another. I wouldn't be surprised if Sally's had 'the wind" muss her hair a time or two."

They were only in the house a few minutes, before Maingo came into the dinning room looking perplexed. "Captain Butler, your things have arrived, I do not know where I should put them, have you a suitable place for them?"

"Rhett?" asked Scarlett, suddenly suspicious of the way he refused to look at her, "What did you bring back from Atlanta?"

"Only the things the children asked for, speaking of which," he raised his voice, "Ella, go see who's here."

The door to the breakfast room burst open and with a perfunctory, "Oh, thank you, thank you Uncle Rhett," Ella sped by with Toby on her heels. From the front hall came a high-pitched shriek followed by a blood-curdling howl from Toby that brought a look of horror to Scarlett's face.

"They had names," she exclaimed, "Oh good lord."

"Now Scarlett, everything has a name."

"I have a few names I'd like to call you right now," she said wryly.


	115. Caw with the Wind

The noise from the foyer was nearly deafening. Caroline and Wade had not rushed to join the younger children in the front hall, but even without them, it was still a jumble of voices as the young girls exclaimed over the marvels of Ella's birds. In an attempt to keep little fingers away from the sharp beaks of the birds, Rosemary repeatedly cautioned the girls away from sticking their fingers between the bars.

Between Toby's howling, the three younger children's screeches of excitement, and the squawking of the two large macaws in their cages Scarlett could scarcely hear herself think, let alone Rhett's reply.

The commotion over the birds drowned out most of Rhett's response, but Scarlett could tell from the satisfied smirk that he was barely able to conceal that she had unwittingly made a fool of herself once again. She had always referred to them, when she had had reason to, as those damned birds. She had had no idea that those birds had names outside of her own pet monikers for them.

She could strangle him for not correcting her when she'd assumed they were dolls. If he had only hinted, she could have saved face. How could she forget their names, of course they would have names. As Rhett had so pointed out, most things did. Who had named them, she could not recall. She thought perhaps Melly and Wade might have, but she had been so consumed by her business and the time she was being forced to spend away from them due to her carrying Bonnie that she had not bothered to pay such things any heed.

Standing in the doorway to the breakfast room, Wade quietly observed his parents. His mother kept looking toward the foyer, her brow lightly creased with annoyance every time one of the birds squawked or the little girls shrieked. But there was something else present in her features, something that Wade had seldom seen there, a real and honest happiness that seemed to come from having Rhett home again.

"Your parents seem so happy," said Caroline, sounding a little wistful. "You're very lucky."

"Yes," replied Wade, watching his mother swat his stepfather's arm playfully, "I know I am."

"Did she truly not know he was bringing home two parrots?"

Watching his mother try to maintain a stern expression, he could tell that she was amused at the situation. Clearly, she had not known what the names of the birds were when Ella had asked for them and now that they had arrived, she'd realized that her children and husband had played a joke on her.

Caroline tapped him lightly on the shoulder to regain his attention. "Will they be staying here, the birds I mean?"

Her dress smelled faintly of lavender and something spicy, like cinnamon or cloves. Every time she moved, the light fragrance of spices coupled with the lavender that was her satchels base wafted up into his nostrils. Searching his memory, he could not immediately identify the scent, but it was enjoyable. For a spilt second, he found himself wanting to ask what the other scent besides lavender was. That ridiculous desire clenched it. "I couldn't really say, excuse me."

There was something about her close proximity that made him feel nervous and defensive all at once, rather than deal with it presently, he chose to remove himself from temptation He left her in the doorway to join his sister and Miss Ashley's nieces in the foyer.

"Scarlett, Rhett; may I have a word, please." The frown on Eleanor Butler's face left no doubts in that she was less than pleased with the new arrivals. The no pets without asking mother sprang to mind and Scarlett watched Rhett give his mother an entreating smile. "What on earth are those creatures doing in my foyer?"

With a sweet smile, Scarlett tilted her head and immediately began to scold Rhett. "Really Rhett, most father's would bring back a small toy or candy from a trip, you bought them parrots?"

"Six years ago," he reminded her. "I bought them those birds six year's ago."

She lightly rested her free hand on her hip, trying to maintain an expression of incredulous doubtfulness. "Well, if you bought them so long ago, where have you been hiding them? I've certainly have never seen them before in my life."

Grinning, Rhett pinched her chin. "Don't you try and put all the blame on me, you were there when Ella asked if I could bring them back here. You could have stopped me. You knew perfectly well who Jack and Jill were, didn't you?" he added with a teasing gleam in his dark eyes. "After all, we've had them since the children were very small."

"We did not," she insisted, smoothening laughter.

"They lived on a perch on the balcony outside our room during the spring and summer, you mean to tell me that you never noticed?"

"This is ridiculous, to suggest that I wouldn't have noticed two huge, messy, loud birds. I don't know where they could have come from since they weren't there." She had begun to tap her foot impatiently, much to Eleanor's obvious amusement. "You might have at least asked me before buying Ella and Wade those squawking menaces."

"I did ask you, when I bought them, six years ago. You told me and I am now quoting verbatim, I haven't seen my feet in a month, I can't sit down or stand up, I don't care if you buy an elephant."

She flushed prettily at the veiled reference to her being pregnant. She thought that she was beyond being capable of being embarrassed by anything Rhett might say, but the way Eleanor's face briefly lit up at just the mention of anything having to do with babies made her painfully aware that a baby would be welcome by everyone in the house on the Battery.

Scarlett continued her obstinate denials of previous knowledge of the birds' existence, though her heart wasn't in it as it had been only moments before. "I do believe that you have gone senile in your old age, Captain Butler. I also believe I would remember owning parrots, especially if, as you claim, they lived outside my window."

"Don't you remember when you complain about those birds outside squawking so loudly that you couldn't sleep? Did you honestly believe I was serious when I would reply, "Those damned robins?" He glanced at his mother, "Don't you believe her, she is trying to fix the blame for being an overindulgent parent completely on my shoulders."

"Now, wait just a minute, why would I have cause to doubt my loving husband's words? You are my lord and master, I have always believed everything that you've ever tol…"

"If you can finish that sentence while looking me in the eye, I will set you up in a medicine show selling wonder elixirs and snake oil to muggins throughout the West."

"What on earth is a muggin?" asked Sally, coming to stand next to Scarlett, "And where did those birds come from?"

Before Rhett could reply, Scarlett swiftly interrupted. "Oh Sally, you know how men are. Rhett bought those silly things because he can't help but spoil the children. And now," she exclaimed fiercely, "he is spinning the most incredible yarn, trying to claim that they are from our house in Atlanta.

"How bad of you Rhett, to just buy those birds without asking me if it was alright to bring them here," said Eleanor, "And then to lie about their origins." With a small sigh, she shook her head. "Where did I go wrong, I'll never know."

"They are only staying till the morning. I told Ella before I left that they would be much happier over at the Landing in the conservatory. I've had most of the glass repaired and what they workmen couldn't get to, they boarded up."

"So you've been planning on buying these birds for some time?" asked Scarlett. "You might have mentioned it to me."

"I did mention it, when I bought them, six years ago," There was a note of exasperation in his voice, but still, Rhett tried to keep his tone serious, "At the time, when I told you that I had a contact bringing me a pair of macaw's from South America, what exactly did you think that meant?

She shrugged. "I assumed they were some sort of boots," she tilted her head before peering innocently through her thick lashes, "Or perhaps loafers."

"You thought they were what?" he asked, trying to further trap her into admitting the truth.

"Boots, or some sort of shoe, that is," she caught herself and grinned triumphantly, "that is, that's what I would have thought if someone had told me they were buying a pair of birds."

"How could you not notice there were two macaws sharing our home?"

"I am sure there are plenty of things that you didn't notice," she swiftly retorted.

"I doubt that I would have missed something as obvious as a pair of parrots."

"If you had bought the elephant like I told you to, rest assured, I would have noticed. You see Rhett Butler, that is your problem, I asked you to do one little thing but instead you have to go your own way and do your own thing. I tell you to buy one elephant and you buy two parrots. You always have to go overboard."

Laughing, he wrapped his arm around her waist and guided her into the parlor. Miles, Sally's husband had already excused himself for the evening; he had to tend to a mare that was nearing her delivery date. Sally, not waiting to miss anything, had opted to ride back with Julia and her nieces.

Julia was already seated when Rhett and Scarlett settled themselves across from her. With a snort of derision, she rolled her eyes to add extra emphasis to her words. "Thank you oh so much Rhett, now those two little ninnies are going to plague me until I get them some sort pet. Though, they are going home soon, perhaps some sort of slobbering present is in order."

Her face wreathed in smiles, Ella flew across the room to throw herself into Rhett's arm. "You are the bestest Uncle Rhett that ever lived," she declared, wrapping her arms around his neck. "You said you would bring them here and you did."

Noting the absence of her charges, Julia snorted again. "Girls, come away from those birds and come in here," called Julia loudly. Waiting for them to comply, she addressed Ella, smiling a little. "Don't swell his head any more than it already is. You told him to do something and he did, just as he was told."

"And it isn't often that he does as he's told," confided Scarlett, deliberately ignoring the man who sat next to her with his arm draped comfortably around her waist.

"Explain yourself Mrs. Butler. I can not think of a single time that you asked me for something that I didn't fulfill your wish, if I was capable of doing so," he amended.

"I told you that I wanted a simple house, something in the style of the houses in New Orleans and instead, you built that affront to architecture.

His stepdaughter immediately interrupted the choked howl of laughter that issued from Rhett. "But I thought you decided what the house would look like mother, "asked Ella.

"Certainly not, I tried to stop him, but Uncle Rhett insisted on covering everything in gilt or red velvet. I begged him, please darling perhaps something attractive like a colonial styled house, not something so obviously meant to be an affront to good taste." Noticing Eleanor and Sally in the doorway, she directed her next comment to them. "Was he always so difficult?"

Eleanor fought a smile, but she failed. "Yes, always."

"Even when we were children, Rhett had to always have his own way," added Sally.

Watching her interact with some of the most important people in his life get on so well made him happier than he'd thought possible. His mother and sister were head over heels with Scarlett and Sally and Julia seemed to enjoy her company. The children were happy to be with their mother and neither of them seemed to regret not returning to Atlanta or the lack of discussion about doing so.

His family was happy and for the present, he could not think of anything else that he needed or wanted. He had come to an important decision over the time he'd been gone. They did not need another child, not until he was absolutely certain that it's birth would in no way harm Scarlett. Luckily, she had never be enthusiastic about having children so she would most certainly be pleased that he would not pressure her for another child.

Waiting to have another child was in everyone's best interests, he thought as he watched Scarlett and Sally tease his mother over having raised such an obstinate son. He could not risk allowing her to try, not that she would want to no matter how much she might say she had wanted the baby she lost, he couldn't quite believe that she would want more children.

Belle had given him something before he'd left her place. With the present laws against obscene materials traveling though the mail, only the madam of a whorehouse would have access to the item he had wanted. Scarlett might be reluctant at first, her upbringing as a Catholic cropped up in the strangest circumstances, but with persistence he would make her understand that he only had her best interests at heart.

**_The parrots in Gone With the Wind are not my invention, though I wish they were. They in fact do appear in the film in what I have to assume was a sort of inside joke among the crew. The two parrots that are situated behind Scarlett and Rhett during Bonnie's fateful ride are Scarlet Macaws. Coincidence…who knows, but if you want to see them, go to my fanfic profile, my icon is the scene in which they appear._**

**_This chapter was a long time in coming. When Dani and I first discussed the parrots in Feb of 2007, I thought these guys have to find a way into one of my stories. And here, after nearly a year, they are. To Dani, thank you is never enough, but thanks all the same._**


	116. A face without a heart

Clad in just her chemise, Scarlett had laid down on their bed for a minute to catch her breath. She had gone upstairs first, at Rhett's request, leaving him to speak with his mother. The stairs at the end of the day were almost more than she could manage. But she knew that if she were to let that slip, Rhett would go back to handling her with kid gloves. She couldn't tell him about how tired she still felt, not if she wanted him to seriously consider her wishes.

For the past week and a half, Scarlett had ruminated heavily on the idea of having another child. Taking Doctor Cross's warnings under consideration, she had finally come to a decision; the one she had known she would reach all along. She was ready. She wanted to tell Rhett how she felt about trying for another child; she just didn't quite know how to word her revelation. After all, she had been the one who'd decided that there would be no more children.

The baby that she had lost had been on her mind a great deal. It had resulted from that night they'd spent together; they hadn't planned on conceiving a child. It had just happened. Even Bonnie, who they had both loved, had just happened. There had been no forethought given to her conception. It was hard to think of how to ask him for a child when she had been the one to tell him she didn't want any more. How did one go about asking for a baby, she wondered with a small frown. Would he look at her with a knowing look in his eyes? Would he laugh at her for having changed her mind?

But perhaps she didn't have to ask him at all, babies didn't usually wait to be invited, they just happened.

He would be happy, she decided finally. He had loved Bonnie so much and for a moment, she had seen happiness in his eyes when she'd confessed she was pregnant just before the cold, cynical mask had fallen across his features and they'd quarreled.

And yet, her logic, calculating mind suggested quietly, he had not mentioned having more children at all since they had reconciled and the last time she'd offered to try for another child, he'd refused vehemently. But surely, she reasoned, then the pain over losing Bonnie was still new and raw. Two years had passed, enough time to begin to try again.

He had only just come home; such a serious conversation might be better kept for the following night over at the Landing. Just the two of them were going and they could talk things over and then, she smiled brilliantly, and then they could go upstairs and…she pulled the sheet up to her chin and smothered a fit of giggles. It had been only four nights since he'd last shared her bed, but it had felt much longer.

She knew now what she wished she'd known that fateful afternoon several years before. When Rhett was there by her side, she could allow herself to sleep without fear of the nightmares that had plagued her over the years. His presence did not completely banish them, but knowing he was next to her allowed her to return to sleep instead of dwelling half the night on every horrifying detail of the nightmares.

Since coming to Charleston, the nightmares had decreased to only a few isolated incidents. She'd had one when he'd left her to go over to the Landing, but all she remembered was that it had had something to do with a child, a child that was missing. She could not remember all of it, so she'd simply done her best to put it from her mind.

Last night she had had a nightmare that even now would not completely leave her. One that was strangely familiar, though the last time she'd had it had been just after they had moved into the house in Atlanta.

It had been a long and exhausting day for a woman who was still not in the best of health. She had pushed herself at a grueling rate all day and the confrontation with Rosemary had taken a great deal out of her. Dread and waiting haunted every moment she spent with Rhett that she did not confess her transgresses against him. Without intending to, she slipped into a fitful slumber.

_The dull hush that hung over the house unnerved her. She wanted to call out and disturb the quiet if only to prove that she would not be cowered by it. But she resisted the urge, finding it to be something silly and vaguely childish. Hollering down the spooks was what Mammy had called it, the inclination toward yelling in a quiet house, but Mammy and her wisdoms was part of another time, a time that this house did not touch upon or recognize._

_Opening the double doors off the hall, she found herself in a parlor. Painted with soft pastel colors, the room seemed welcoming and she entered it willingly, eager to escape the overwhelming silence of the hall. The windows were open and as she closed the door to the hall behind her, a gust of wind fluttered the curtains, startling her a little. _

_Under her gaze, they moved slightly in the breeze, a breeze that was tinged with the faint aroma of salt marshes. Until she had stayed at the Landing, she had never before smelled the brackish combination of salt and the rich soil that the rice grew in. _

_The room was handsome, she concluded, turning her head to take in the pieces of furniture that occupied the mostly empty room. A heavy anniversary clock dominated much of the fireplace mantle. But she only glanced at it, noting that the second hand was not moving and had not moved since 6:15. Whether it had been stopped in the morning or evening there was no way of knowing, but the clock only held her attention for a few seconds, it was the mirror behind it that drew her full attention._

_It had been turned to face the wall. She shivered lightly. There was only one reason why a mirror would be turned to face the wall. _

_Death was in the room. _

_The mirror facing the wall was the ornate Venetian mirror from Rhett's bedroom at the Landing. How she knew, just by looking at the back, she could not say for sure. Bu if she could turn it away from the wall, she knew that in the corners there were entwined Celtic lovers knots. The mirror was facing the wall, but she knew. She knew exactly what that mirror looked like because she had studied her reflection in it several times during their recent family visit to the Landing_

_The house was unfamiliar, but yet, it felt as though it belonged to her or rather, she belonged in it. The decorating choices in the room she presently stood in were understated, but lent the room a loveliness that was both comforting and at the same time magnificent without overwhelming the senses. She recognized a side table from the front hall of the Atlanta house and a low table in front of the settee that resembled the one her mother had brought to Tara from her father's house in Savannah._

_Whether it was the same one, she did not know, but if she ran her hand along the side facing the couch, she wondered if she'd find her initials. One rainy afternoon, she had used a pin to carve her initials into the shiny wood. When caught red handed, she had tried to charm her way out of a punishment. It had been her intention to blame her crime on Sue, but Mammy had pointed out that Suellen would not have carved K. S. O. She'd insisted she might have, but the switching she'd received soon brought the truth from her lips. _

_The few carefully selected ornaments and pale lemon hued paint were not choices she would have made when she had first married Rhett. Then, she'd sought to furnish her home to impress everyone with how rich they were. Time had made her a little wiser. A house didn't have to be so overdone to be impressive; it could be understated and still beautiful. _

_When she decorated the Landing and the house that Rhett had promised her in Charleston, she would do everything differently. The house they would call home, they would decorate together, making choices that would reflect the tastes of the Butlers as a couple and not just her need to prove a point to people who didn't care and didn't really matter to her anyway. _

_How she could have missed the object before the window, she didn't know. She only knew that once she saw it, the room that had seemed so warm and charming only seconds before was now slowly closing in on her._

_The coffin on the fabric draped boards rested on two sawhorses. It stood out in stark contrast to the pale lemon colored walls and white wainscoting. The large bowed bay window allowed the sun to illuminate the room, yet there was a chill in the air. The sun's rays fell on the casket's lid, causing it to glisten like a snake's scales._

_She knew she was dreaming. This dream was vaguely familiar, the particulars of it forgotten, but the general feeling of it had lingered years after the initial dream. She glanced down, expecting to see the familiar black bombazine skirts that were always associated with death and mourning. What she saw instead was a complete departure from the last time she'd had this dream. The unexpected shock caused her to frantically search her mind for details from the dream the last time she'd had it. This time, instead of mourning black, she was wearing her Worth Gown. The elegant pink gown that she had been wearing earlier when she'd welcomed her husband home was what she found herself wearing instead of black._

_Finding her self in that dress in a house of mourning was every bit as bad as being caught there in nothing but her stays and shimmy. It would almost be preferable to be found there standing in just her shimmy. At least then she could claim to be so grief stricken that she'd forgotten to put on her dress. Standing in a pink gown in a room that contained a coffin? That was unheard of. Of all the scandalous things she'd ever done, this was among the worst. Even Belle Watling wouldn't commit such a vile act. Wearing such a colorful gown during a time of morning was a direct slap in the face to the family of the departed. _

_Why the only person allowed to wear a color other than black was the corpse, she thought. Her heart pounded in her throat violently, nearly choking her. Last time it had been Rhett in the coffin. But if it were Rhett, she would be wearing black. If it were anyone who meant anything to her, she would be in black. If she wasn't wearing black, that could mean only one thing…_

_Slowly, dreading what she knew she would find, she crossed the room and rested her hand on the sun-warmed wood of the coffin lid.__ Reading the first line, she found the usual Latin phrase, Requiescat In Pace, in heavy block letters. Below those ancient words was the name of the body within. _

_Taking a deep breath, she followed the graceful loops and curricles that formed the name of the deceased. There in flowing engraved lettering was the name Katie Scarlett Margaret O'Hara Butler. _

_The name on the plate was her own. _

"_No," she cried, ripping her hand from the coffin lid. In her haste to escape the room she caught the heel of her shoe in her hem, tearing her skirt. Caught off balance, she fell hard on the amber stained floor. Dream or not, she felt the impact of her body against the floor. The wind was nearly knocked from her and she panted, trying desperately to draw in enough air so that she would not swoon. If she did, she was sure she would wake to find herself inside the casket. Or worse, she would not awake at all._

_A hand was extended in front of her face; it was a man's hand. On his little finger there was a large ring carved with a symbol she couldn't identify. He wriggled his fingers slightly, an indication for her to take his hand. She grasped it, accepting it like a lifeline offered to a drowning man. Allowing the man to help her to her feet, she directed gaze upward to the man only to find…_

Rhett, leaning over her, concern was evident in his features as he shook her with great care. "Scarlett, Scarlett wake up."

Still drowse and lost in the world of her unsettling dream, she instinctively thrust out her hands out to push him away.

He shook her again, with a little less care this time. The vacant look in her eyes unnerved him and he reacted to it. His voice was insistent and sounded vaguely harsh, even to his own ear. "Scarlett, wake up."

She blinked several times, trying to fix the dream in her mind. It was important that she remember it, why, she could not say, but she knew that it was not the sort of dream she should just dismiss. "Rhett," she took a shaky breath, "I must have fallen asleep. I meant to wait up for you."

"You must have had a long day, I know I did." He brushed the hair from her face with a gentle hand. "Much as your chemise suits you, it's getting cold outside. It started to rain a little while ago and the wind is picking up. Get under the blankets, I'll find you another nightdress."

He was right; since she'd come upstairs, their room had grown cold. Not trusting her self to answer without her teeth chattering she only nodded, shivering lightly as she pushed back the blankets.

Without comment, he handed her a heavy woolen nightgown that she remembered packing months ago as an afterthought. It was itchy and she couldn't remember why she'd bothered to pack it in the first place. She hadn't been in the clearest frame of mind when she had decided to pursue Rhett so packing had been a blend of finding garments he might find appealing on her and tossing anything, willy-nilly, into one of the half dozen trunks she'd brought along.

Staring at it dumbly for a moment, she put it aside. "I don't like this one."

"Then why did you pack it?" he asked, exasperation creeping into his voice.

"I wasn't really thinking when I packed," she explained, "I just brought whatever I thought I might need."

"And several trunksfulls extra?"

"I told you, I wasn't sure how long I was staying so I didn't want to be caught without."

He tossed a few pieces of kindling onto the fire, reviving it. Drawing his cigar case from his pocket, he lit one and settled into a chair before the fire. "You weren't venturing to the wilds of South America, Charleston is fairly civilized…"

"And the natives are mostly friendly," she teased.

"So they are. You do realize that we are going to have to do something about all of the clutter in here."

"You are referring to my belongings as clutter?"

"It's a little difficult to move around in here, surely you've noticed?

"Maybe it is and maybe it's not." Putting on her most charming expressing, she smiled brightly. "If you aren't really going to be using your bedroom anymore, it's a shame to let it go to waste." Watching his expression in an attempt to judge his mood, she suggested nonchalantly an idea she'd been considering over the last few days. "We could put my trunks in there. That way I could unpack a little more…"

He laughed warmly, but cut her off before she could continue. "My mother is not going to be terribly pleased if you try and turn my bedroom into a dressing room."

Scarlett crossed her arms petulantly, but her words were playful. "I don't see why not, you aren't using it anymore. And I don't believe that you are a bit worried about what Miss Eleanor would think. It's that you're just as bad as I am when it comes to being fashionable. I'm sure we could come to some sort of agreement," she wheedled. "I could let you keep two drawers. That's fair, isn't it?"

"You have a funny idea of fair Miss O'Hara and I am very sure my mother would have a great deal to say about it. At present her kitchen is serving as an aviary, Ella's room is housing the dog that's torn up most of the yard and she is set on getting a kitten to add to our growing menagerie. Wade has been hinting that he might like to learn to ride. I believe we are starting to rapidly wear out our welcome my pet."

"I hadn't realized that we were becoming such a nuisance. Is Miss Eleanor angry with us, has she complained?" asked Scarlett anxiously.

"Not in so many words, but it doesn't matter anyway, or rather, it won't for much longer. There's a house I want you to come and see with me on Thursday. It's just a block away, near enough to make visiting mother easy on you. I want to have us all in a house of our own again. Even before you and then the children descended on us, I was going to look for a place of my own back in November."

"You really intended on staying here, didn't you? You at least must have been planning to stay for long enough if you would want to buy a house?" she questioned softly, knowing the answer.

He nodded his head a little. "Yes. I had planned on staying, for awhile." Throwing the cigar into the fire, he came to sit next to her on the bed. Kicking off his shoes, he settled against his pillow, wrapping his arm around her.

"I certain threw your plans into disarray, didn't I?"

He leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. "You did, in the best way possible."

The only light in the room came from the fire and the oil lamp still burning on his bedside table. His eyes were gentle as he looked down into her face and she knew that now was the perfect time to discuss having another child. "I've been waiting for you to come home, for a special reason I mean, that is, I've been wanting to talk to you about something, its been on my mind for a while," she said, rambling a little as she searched for just the right way to tell him of her decision.

He kissed her again and she was nearly tempted to just show him how she felt, but he deserved to know how much she wanted to have his children. It would further heal some of the damage that her blindness had caused.

"Does it have to do with the dream you just had?" He asked.

"No. It's something we were talking about when the children first came."

"Alright. What is it?"

"I was thinking I might like…"

A knock on the door silenced her and he smiled apologetically, "If you can hold onto that thought for just a minute."

When he opened the bedroom door, a nearly frantic Miss Eleanor was on the other side. "Darling, Emily is downstairs. One of the Yankee soldiers from the jail just came to her house. Your brother accused a Yankee sergeant of cheating at cards. There was a fight and now Ross is in jail. I know you must be tired, but please, would you go and see if you could sort this out? Emily's worried nearly half to death and I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight knowing Ross is in that awful place. He'll only make it worse the longer he's there. "

He looked back at Scarlett. "I'm sorry, I'll only be a little while. You don't mind, do you?"

Forcing a smile, she nodded, all the while cursing Ross. "No, off course I don't mind, after all, he is your brother."

"Unfortunately."


	117. Faith

**For Carla, to answer her question and Dani, who can spell dead frenchmen for 400 Alex**

Emily was already at the breakfast table, sipping a cup of coffee, when Rosemary came down at half past seven. Her gown was familiar to Rosemary, but not because she'd ever seen it on Emily. It was familiar because it belonged to Rosemary's mother.

From her exhausted posture and the way her hand shook sporadically as she lifted her cup it was obvious Emily had not just arrived. She must have been at the table for several hours. Quickly searching her face, Rosemary could see bruised purple shadows beneath her solemn eyes Had Emily left Ross and come here to her in laws to seek out shelter? That seemed unlikely, were that the case, Ross would have been all but tearing the front door off to get to her.

Giving her sister in law a weary, brittle smile, Emily offered the most peremptory of greetings. "Good morning dear. Did you sleep well?"

"Emily, hello." Rosemary tried not to continue to stare at Emily's haggard face. As she settled into her chair, she asked bluntly, "Did you sleep, at all?"

"No, I haven't slept. So quickly you come to the point Rosemary. Don't ever change," she ordered with a smile, "it's refreshing to speak to someone who doesn't mince about."

"I don't have to mince, it's obvious something's wrong. You're here very early, too early for a social call, so what is it that's the matter."

"Ross was arrested last night," holding up her hand to silence the barrage of oncoming questions, Emily continued, "something about a Yankee officer tried to cheat him during a game of cards. At least, that's what I was told. But the Corporal who came to speak with me was very shy about the whole thing, so who knows? Rhett left here hours ago to see what he could do for him."

"I take it from your attire that mama knows?"

"She does, you must have just missed her. She went upstairs to lie down for a little while." Pouring herself another cup of coffee, Emily remarked sadly, "Poor Scarlett has been up most of the night as well, she went up to check on the children and change. She's been keeping me company, but really, I think she's been waiting for Rhett to come home."

"She missed him."

"Of course she did, from the look on his face when we sent him off last night the feeling was mutual. She's been waiting for him to come home all week and this is what he came home to." Disgust crept into her voice. "It's a wonder Rhett was willing to go. He only went because Miss Eleanor asked him to. After the fiasco at the bank, he'd told me that he didn't want to have to bail Ross out of trouble for a long, long time. Miss Eleanor begged him, that's the only reason why he went. If she hadn't, I think he would have left Ross to his own devices."

"They were supposed to go over to the Landing for the night. I wonder if they'll still go."

"Are the children going?"

Rosemary's eyes danced brightly, "They are not, Scarlett is entrusting them into my excellent care."

A noise from the doorway caught their attention and they turned expectantly. Scarlett looked pale and more than a little tired as she leaned heavily on her cane. "I heard you talking to someone Emily, I was hoping it was Rhett. He isn't here yet, is he?"

"No, I'm sure they'll be here soon," said Emily reassuringly.

"Good morning Scarlett."

"Good morning Rosemary."

"Maybe you should lie down for a little while, you're looking peaked," commented Rosemary.

"I couldn't lie up there and pretend to be sleeping. When Rhett gets back, I'll lie down for a few hours."

"I'm so sorry for all of this Scarlett," said Emily.

"Why, you aren't Ross's keeper, just his wife. Men do what they will, at least, that's been my experience."

"They do indeed."

The three women sat around the table, their earlier attempts at conversation had faded into an awkward silence. Scarlett was fuming silently about Ross and his knack for getting into trouble at the most inconvenient times. She wanted to shout at him when she next saw him; she wished she could work herself into a rage and then unbraid him for his terrible timing. But there was something about him that made her hold her tongue, if for no other reason than her own safety. Rhett had once told her that she had an amazing sense of self-preservation. That sense was telling her to leave Ross alone.

The clatter of plates from behind the kitchen door made Emily jump and coffee sloshed over the rim of her up. "That was what happened to my dress," she admitted ruefully as she bloated droplets of coffee off the caramel colored tablecloth.

Carlen cared out their plates a moment later, but only Rosemary began to eat with her usual good appetite. Emily slid the plate away from her after a few minutes. "Eat something Em, it won't do any good to not."

But Rosemary's advice fell on deaf ears. Emily sat with her untouched plate before her, dwelling on the few pleasant years she'd shared with Ross at the beginning of their marriage. In comparison with the unhappy state she lived in now, it seemed inconceivable to her that once they'd been generally happy with one another. Ross had been eagerly making plans for the day the Landing became his and she had been looking forward to motherhood. Eventually, her brothers would each marry and make her an aunt. She had pictured a life of picnics and parties, of carefree happiness and laughter. None of those dreams had come to fruition. Ross had lost the Landing and she'd lost her brothers. There had been no child for them and Ross had slipped into a constant semi-intoxicated state. Life certainly didn't turn out the way they'd once planned.

Rosemary ate slowly, chewing thoughtfully as she regarded Emily. She was torn by divided loyalties. Ross needed her support, he could not seem to do anything right. No matter how hard he tried, he always seemed to backslide into trouble. It seemed his lot in life to always find misfortune, whereas Rhett seemed to always land on his feet.

But still, she reasoned democratically, it must have been equally annoying for Rhett to constantly have to set Ross's messes right. He didn't need anyone to clean up after him, and he respected others who did likewise. That was part of why he loved Scarlett as much as he did. Scarlett dealt with the circumstances she was given, and seldom asked for help. The only time she did reach out for help, at least the only time Rosemary had heard of, Rhett had been unable to help. That must have further cemented what Scarlett had learned during the war, you could only depend on yourself.

Scarlett laid down her fork, giving up all pretenses of eating. She had tried to eat, but the coffee she had consumed throughout the night had soured her stomach and she couldn't manage more than a few bites of Johnnycake before giving up. "There's something I've been meaning to ask you Emily."

"Alright. What about?"

"Mrs. Benson, the seamstress who did Ella's dresses."

"Oh!" She exclaimed, having expected the question to be about Ross, she was monetarily speechless, left trying to think of something to say. "I saw Ella's dresses; didn't you like them? I thought they were lovely. But then, Laura Benson is the very best seamstress in the county, possibly the state."

"There were beautiful and I will be sure to have her make both mine and Ella's things while we are here in Charleston. I will have to make sure I contact her from April to December as she doesn't like to work from mid February until the last week in April. After December, she told me she is busy with the season so she can't guarantee when things will be finished. I took away from our exchange that she doesn't much care for sewing between the season and April, does she?"

Rosemary picked up a third piece of toast and tore off the crust. "You know, I have never heard of her sewing at all from the time the season ends until April. You could have knocked me over with a feather when you told me she was coming to the house, she generally doesn't do that either. I wonder how much Rhett paid her? It must have been a fortune." She blushed a little. "I'm sorry, that was rude of me," she glanced at Scarlett to see if she was offended, but Scarlett wasn't paying her any attention."

Looking in Emily's direction, Scarlett corrected Rosemary. "He didn't have to pay her to come here, she agreed to. In fact, he didn't pay her anything above her usual fees. She told me she did it as a favor. No, not a favor," she corrected herself, "she was paying a debt. A debt she owed to Emily."

Nibbling a biscuit, Emily smiled softly, the first true smile Rosemary had seen on her face all morning. "Laura Benson is funny isn't she? Not a particularly warm woman, but she never leaves a debt outstanding is she can help it. Only, she didn't owe me, she owed Claire, my mother. My mother, if you remember Scarlett, died during the war, so as she was unable to pay her back, she transferred the debt to me instead. I finally decided to collect on it. Now hopefully, she considers herself even with the DeSaussure's. I'm the only one of the immediate family left, I have a few cousins, but none of them DeSaussures."

The distance in Emily's expression drove a quick, sharp dart of pain into Scarlett's own breast. She wondered if she looked that way when she thought about Tara and her parents. Resting her hand on Emily's sleeve, she squeezed lightly, knowing from personal experience how difficult it was to think of the dead. "What did she owe your mother?"

Emily rested her hand over Scarlett's. "Everything. My mother rescued her when she was a very small child. Juliana, Laura's mother, was my mother's seamstress. My father brought her over from France as a wedding present when he married my mother. My mother's family came here from the south of France, from a city called Toulouse. They were cousins, my mother and father, both DeSaussures. Had they not been, my father's family would have brought him a bride from France. In my family, it was as common to speak French during a meal as it was to speak English. On the Quatorze Juillet, my mother would wear full mourning and spend the day in prayer for the souls of the departed who died in the Terror."

"I don't know what that is, the Quartz Jullet?" said Scarlett, butchering the pronunciation deliberately, with a trace of annoyance. They were always doing that, all of the Butlers, not intentionally, she thought, but they would use phrases that she had no idea about and then continue on as though she should know them. She hated feeling ignorant. She hated not having things in Charleston by which she could prove herself capable. The mills and store had done that for her in Atlanta. They had not only fed and clothed her family; they'd fed her vanity. Now, she had nothing to take pride in, nothing to set her apart.

"I'm sorry, the Quatorze Juillet is French for the fourteenth of July. It's one of the key dates in the history of the French Republic. That day and its events are what the French Patriots used as a rallying point to overthrow Louis the Sixteenth and the rightful government of France."

"You think the monarchy should have remained in power?" asked Rosemary, rolling her eyes, "They treated the French people dreadfully."

"When I want your opinion Robespierre, I mean Rosemary, I'll ask for it. Now, where was I…"

"You were telling me about Mrs. Benson and her mother."

"Juliana lived in a small outbuilding at Ridgewood, our plantation. My brother's tutor lived in the next cottage. They fell in love and married. Laura was their only child before Mitchell, her father, caught yellow fever and died. Juliana died when Laura was six or seven. There was no one to take her in, my mother wrote to everyone she could think of that might have a claim on the child, but there was no one.

Left with a small child on her hands, my mother refused to just leave her to a foundling home, she wrote to contacts at the different fashion houses that she had in France. The House of Bertin offered to take on Laura as an apprentice. They assured mother that they would give her every chance to further herself. It was the best solution, better than an orphanage certainly. My mother explained things to Laura. Even then, she was such a solemn, intelligent child. After listening to mother, she agreed. That April, my mother and I took Laura with us on our annual trip to Paris."

Scarlett felt a new appreciation for Laura Benson. She had been left alone in the world and even at the tender age of seven, she had been able to leave the only home she'd ever known for new country. Though she loved Ella, she wasn't sure if her own child would be able to cope like that. Luckily, there were plenty of people to take in Ella should something happen to her. That thought reminded her of her dream from the previous two nights and she forced herself not to shudder.

"I never knew all that," said Rosemary. "I just thought she apprenticed in France."

"It isn't really something she discuses. She married while in France and had a baby, a little girl. But her husband and daughter and she came back here to set up shop. That was about a year after the war. She sews for everyone who is anyone."

Remembering Emily's elegant traveling dress, Scarlett wanted to have her curiosity settled on that front as well. "Does she sew for you, the dress that you were wearing the day you went to fetch the children…"

With only a trace of discomfort, Emily nodded. "Laura made that. She doesn't sew specifically for me, if that's what you're thinking. She sometimes has me come to the shop to model for customers, like they do in the Paris Houses. Afterwards, she lets me take a dress or sometimes two. If she didn't, I could never afford her prices, her dresses are very dear." Smiling sweetly, she winked at Scarlett. Sometimes, when she allowed her guard to come down, there was a shadow of the petted, carefree girl Emily DeSaussure had once been. "Rhett stopped by on his way back, after asking her to sew for Ella. He told me that he offered her an obscene amount of money, but she refused. He was not only put out over her refusal, he was disappointed that he was going to have to tell you that she wouldn't sew for Ella. I asked him not to say anything to you. I was fairly certain that if I did the asking she'd leap at the chance to repay an old debt. I once told her to consider the dresses thanks enough for what my mother had done for her, but she refused. I figured, she's been itching to pay me back for years. Now, we're settled."

The slam of the front door brought Scarlett to her feet.

"Rhett," called Scarlett hopefully.

"Yes."

"Oh thank god," she muttered under her breath. Rhett was a prominent businessman and had some formidable connections. That and his wealth granted him a certain status, even in the eyes of the Yankee's, but she still had not been able to keep herself from worrying. He had gone down to the Yankee headquarters, alone and late at night. If they had decided to try and keep him on some trumped up charges, there would have been little that he could have done until Monday morning when cases were heard.

Resentment welled up in Scarlett toward Ross. He was a selfish bastard, she thought maliciously. All that ever followed the mere mention of his name was trouble. Normally, she didn't give a damn what happened to him, but when he dragged Rhett in after him, then she cared.

Leaving Emily and Rosemary in the breakfast room, she hurried into the hall.

The look on his face made it clear before he spoke a syllable that things had not gone well down at the jail. Harsh lines, giving him a perpetual scowl, were etched on either side of his mouth. She came to him and then stopped, not quite touching him, waiting for him to make the first move. The tension in his features served to make her cautious of doing or saying the wrong thing. Everything about his demeanor seemed to warn her to keep her distance.

She tilted her head back to fix him with a questioning gaze. When his arms settled themselves around her waist, she could feel the tension in his body and she instinctively moved closer in an attempt to draw some of it from him. His hand slid up her back and her eyes slide closed as she waited for the caress of his lips against her own. Feeling his lips brush the curve of her cheek, she smiled. Her eyes sparkled as she opened them to meet his searching expression.

"I've been waiting for you, I thought you'd never come home," she whispered, before reaching up to stroke his beard-shadowed cheek.

He managed a smile for her before chuckling softly and kissing her again, this time on the mouth. "I thought that too."

Emily stood, regarding her brother in law and the way his manner changed the second he took Scarlett in his arms. In the midst of her own worries, she was able to appreciate the attractive picture they made. She drew back into the breakfast room to allow them a minute alone.

When she heard them talking, she moved back to the doorway, clearing her throat softly to gain their attention. In her borrowed powder blue dress, framed by the doorway to the breakfast room, she appeared saint like, as though she'd just stepped out of a church window. The sunlight that now spilled through the tiered windows cast a soft golden glow on her dark locks, like a halo. She was not a stunning woman, even in her youth she had been nothing more than attractive, but in her movements and manner there was a quiet, all encompassing dignity about her that drew admiration from nearly everyone who knew her.

"Rhett, you look exhausted. I'm sorry that it took so long." She glanced behind him, but the hall was empty. "Where is he?"

Rhett took a step toward her, drawing Scarlett along with him. "Emily, I tried. But right now, he is sitting in a jail cell, where he is going to remain until sometime Monday." Rhett watched Emily, waiting for a reaction to his news. There was no hysteria in Emily's expression, no tears in her eyes, just resignation at her lot in life. He waited for her to speak, but when she did not, he tried to reassure her. "It's only for a few days."

"It's just that Ross hates small spaces. He can't stand to feel boxed in."

"Well, he'll have to make do. It might do him good to cool off for a few days. Maybe, just maybe, it will give him time to think. At the very least, it will give him a few days to dry out."

"Couldn't you do anything?" she asked softly, before checking herself. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that you didn't try hard enough. I know you must have done everything you could. Its just the thought of him sitting there all weekend, I hate it."

The quiet faith in him that was prominently displayed in Emily's face wrenched at his heart slightly, and he tried to curb some of his anger at his brother least it spill over into his words. He didn't want her to feel as though any of his frustration was directed at her. All of the animosity and anger he currently felt was reserved entirely for Ross, his constant thorn in the side. Living a respectable life had some distinct drawbacks, family obligations being the most glaring. "I did do something Emily. I bribed three high ranking Yankee's and apologized profusely for my brother's shameful behavior. We were on our way out the door, and I thought that the matter was settled."

"Then where is Ross now? Why did they change their minds?"

He chuckled dryly. "They changed their minds because my brother is incapable of keeping his mouth shut. We were leaving; I only had to sign a writ saying I would look after Ross until Monday. The solider whose eye Ross had blackened warned him to stay away from the saloon he'd been gambling at. Then he made a comment about Ross, anyone could tell he was hoping to start trouble. Ross obliged, he took a swing at him. They locked him back up and there was nothing else for it. They are keeping him till he can go before the provost on Monday. If they decide to let it go, which, if I throw more money at them, I suspect they will, Ross will still have to go before a judge because he assaulted a Yankee solider. He caused a good deal of damage at the bar too, but the saloon is an easy fix; they are just going to want to be compensated for the damages. I'll have Aubrey take care of that this afternoon. As for what the judge will say, I can't answer that. Hopefully, we can settle things quietly and have him home by Monday night. "

There was a momentary pang of jealousy as Scarlett listened to Rhett explain the situation to Emily. His tone was deferential and respectful. He treated Emily like a lady, and never in her presence had he spoken harshly to her or made callous remarks. He wondered why she had never wanted to allow herself to trust him, maybe because he treated every woman of his acquaintance better than he treated her, the woman that he was in love with.

She sighed softly, at her expulsion of breath, Rhett's arm tightened slightly around her waist. She squared her shoulders, trying to pay attention to the rest of the conversation, but her mind wandered almost immediately. If they were starting over, things needed to be different, especially if they were going to bring a baby into their lives. She would have to learn to let go of the anger she still harbored toward him. She could not love him more than she already did, but on the opposite side of the coin there was still a need to know why he couldn't have treated her with a little more kindness. That alone might have been enough to win her over.

She watched Emily's expression; though she was clearly upset, relief was evident in her eyes. Having a husband that had been jailed for drinking and brawling was embarrassing, but she would also have a weekend all to herself. Rhett thought a few days in jail might serve Ross well? Who cared how Ross did, it was Emily that would most directly benefit from a small vacation from Ross.

"Miss Eleanor is going to be mortified," said Emily.

"Mother is a long way past being mortified by Ross's behavior. I think she has been for a long time."

"I doubt he thanked you, but I can't thank you enough for trying."

"I did it for you Emily, and for mother. I tried to help him for the two of you. Ross has used up the last bit of goodwill I can afford to extend to him. I think I made that clear to him after they'd tossed him back in his cell. From now on, if it doesn't somehow benefit you, he is on his own. For what it's worth, I am sorry that you were saddled with Ross. You are a better wife than he deserves."

She did not directly reply to Rhett's criticism of Ross. "I'm going to go home and lie down for a few hours before I go to the jail. I hope they'll let me see Ross. He needs to know he isn't alone, even if he doesn't care, I still want him to know."

"He deserves to be alone," said Rhett plainly.

"But he isn't, he has me." She kissed his cheek and embraced Scarlett and Rosemary in turn before leaving.

"Sit down Rhett, I'll tell Carlen you're back," offered Rosemary.

"Don't bother, I'm more tired than hungry. I'll have a quick bite late before we leave for the Landing." He smiled at Scarlett; his jaw trembled slightly as he suppressed a yawn. "We'll leave at three, if that's alright?"

"Of course, I believe I'll come upstairs and join you, if you don't mind. I didn't sleep well last night."

"Or at all?" he guessed with a grin.

"I couldn't." The sound of Wade and Ella bickering floated down the hall and Scarlett groaned lightly. "They'll be looking for me any minute."

"Go upstairs, I'll see that they have breakfast and then take them on a walk. We'll pick up a few things that you have on Wade's list," offered Rosemary.

"You wouldn't mind?"

"I wouldn't offer if I did."

When he closed the door behind them, she looked him in the eye. "Now, let's hear the real story."

"What do you mean?"

If the Yankee's went around arresting everyone who picked fights with them in Charleston, there wouldn't be an inch of space left in any of the jails. Usually, all it takes is a bribe and they turn you loose. I also noticed that you deliberately didn't mention the name of the bar he was at. Where was he, really?"

His dark brows rose slightly and he smiled ruefully. "I think I liked it better when you didn't give a thought to anything not tied to the mills or the store."

"I'll bet you did, where was he?"

"Josephine's, it's a house of ill repute."

"Why Rhett Butler, that's charming, years ago you would have used the word whorehouse, are you defending my tender sensibilities?"

"Do you have any?" As her mouth opened to offer a sharp retort, he overrode her smoothly. "I will be sure to do my best to shield them in the future."

"Was it over a girl?"

"Yes."

"I see."

"Do you," he asked, sitting on the bed and drawing off his boots, "then explain it to me. My brother has a wonderful wife, but instead he spends his life chasing after barmaids and whores."

Seeing an insult where none had been intended, she seized upon it and before she could stop herself the words were out before she could contain them. "Not like you, your wife was awful so you were justified in chasing after whores."

His dark brow quirked up as he threw his boots off to the side. "I didn't have to chase them, I remained seated and they came to me."

Her pretty face twisted as she sat at the vanity. Yanking the pins from her hair, she began to brush it with angry, wide strokes. "How convenient."

Taking the brush from her hand, he began to draw it gently through her hair. "It was at times, but generally, it left me with the dilemma of how to turn them away because I was in love with my wife. Is there any particular reason that you're suddenly attacking me," he leaned down and met her hostile gaze in the mirror, "besides being jealous of Emily for some reason that I've yet to figure out."

"Oh!" she exclaimed, reaching up to rip the brush from his hand. He moved it just out of her reach. "I am not jealous of Emily."

"Aren't you? I assumed that was what that long suffering sigh you heaved downstairs was about."

"That was a yawn."

"And that was a lie, you have no reason to be jealous of Emily, or anyone for that matter." He smiled at the way her eyes momentarily brightened. Tossing the brush on the dresser, he offered his hand. "Now that that's settled, didn't you have something you wanted to tell me last night before we were so rudely interrupted by the perils of Ross."

Leaning her cane within easy reach against the nightstand, she allowed him to help her onto the bed. She fussed with the pillows while stalling for time. "Um," she said, ducking her head to hide the excitement in her face, "I did, but it will keep. We can talk about it tonight over at the Landing."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"How have you been feeling?" He asked, twirling a strand of her hair around his ring finger like an onyx band.

"Fine," she said smiling brightly, "better than I have in a long time." He stretched out on the bed and she curled comfortably against him. "I didn't get the chance to ask yesterday, did you see Beau and Ashley?"

He was glad she couldn't see his face. "I did."

"How are they?"

"Fine."

"Fine," she repeated, lightly mocking his serious tone, "just fine?"

"Beau is glad to be coming. He misses you and the children. He was hoping you were going to return to Atlanta, but coming to see us seems to have smoothed that over. Ashley hasn't run the mills out of business yet. He asked about your investment in his success. I denied any knowledge."

"That sneak," she laughed, "He's asked me several times and I've denied it. Did he say anything else about how they're doing without Melly?"

"A little. I met with him at the bank and then we ran into each other later in my trip."

"You don't seem happy about all of this, are you sure you don't mind Beau coming?"

"No, I think it will do him good, Ella and Wade too. They miss their aunt and having Beau here will help. By the way, what did mother have to say about another child coming to visit?"

A look of horror spread across her face. "Mary, mother of God," she struggled out of his embrace, "I completely forgot to ask your mother. I'm not use to living under someone else's roof, I didn't even think about it. Do you think she'll mind?"

"Not unless she's changed her mind between now and last week when I asked her."

"What?" She laughed, a sound that he'd missed over the previous week. "Very funny."

"I thought so."

"You did, hmm," she arched up and kissed his chin. "You're right, we need to find a house of our own."

"We do indeed. Have you given any thought to what you might like?"

"I want a huge master bedroom, preferably with an adjoining room, so that I can having a dressing room again."

"Agreed. No doubt you'll want to bring the rest of your things from Atlanta."

She smiled prettily. "I don't have any summer things here, so it's really the sensible thing to do. I was thinking of having some more of my things sent here, maybe Uncle Henry can find someone to take care of that."

"How very practical. I'm surprised at you, I would have assumed you'd just have new things made."

"Who said that I wasn't?" Scarlett pursed her lips petulantly before dissolving into giggles.

He joined in her laughter. "Now that's the Scarlett I know. So, what else?"

"I'd like a piazza, its very nice to be able to sit outside our room when I feel like it, but not have to sit out front. I'd miss that if we couldn't find a house with one. Also, I want a big piece of property."

"That might prove to be difficult if you want to stay in the town limits. The house I had in mind has a nice yard, but not very large. Is it really that important?"

"It is, I want to have a yard for the children to play in and Toby needs space to run around. We'll need a few extra bedrooms so that Wade can turn one into a study because he's nearly a man according to you. He'll need his own place to think great thoughts or what ever it is that men do in their studies. I would like a room as well, to do the household accounts in. You and I could share, if need be." Feeling his body shake with silent laughter, she rolled over to struggle upright. "You think I'm being unrealistic in what I want in our house?"

He laughed aloud as he ran his hand through her hair, drawing her in for a kiss. "Completely."

She smiled graciously "Well then, you tell me, I've certainly never asked before so I wouldn't know, what is it that you want to find in a house?"

His expression of mirth at her extravagant plans faded into an earnest look of love, "You and our children."


	118. Out of sight

Scarlett and Rhett had been gone nearly two hours before Rosemary could finally slip upstairs to the sanctuary of her bedroom. True to her word, she had entertained the children while Scarlett had napped before leaving for the Landing.

After a leisurely breakfast, during which she and Wade had engaged in a lively discussion of a short story they'd just finished in Harper's Weekly, Rosemary decided they would all take Toby on a walk. She thought it would be nice for them to see a little more of Charleston and with them out of the house; Scarlett and Rhett could nap in relative peace.

Missing Jason, she turned the children down King Street so they would pass his home. She was sure that he still hadn't returned, but seeing the house that she hoped to one day be mistress of would sooth her a little. As they passed the house, Tia, Doctor Cross's housekeeper had been weeding the space between the boxwood shrubs and the wrought iron picket fence.

Tia met her curious gaze and shook her head slightly, indicating that Jason had not yet returned. After they had passed Jason's house, Ella tugged her hand sharply. "Aunt Rosemary, that girl's chasing us."

Tia was hurrying down the sidewalk, when she saw she had Rosemary's attention, she called, "Ma'am, you dropped this." She unceremoniously thrust a folded sheet of paper into Rosemary's hand before she returned to Jason's yard, disappearing behind the tall hedges into the secluded side yard.

"I didn't see you drop anything," said Wade, as he moved Toby's lead to his left hand and grasped Ella's hand with his right. Tugging her gently, he moved her further on to the walkway to keep her away from the bustling street.

Smiling brightly, she carefully worded her reply. "I didn't even notice. Wasn't it lucky that nice girl noticed?"

Wade regarded her with thinly veiled curiosity, but Ella's repeated tugging on his hand drew his attention away from his aunt's guilty expression. Thank goodness for Ella's boundless energy, thought Rosemary.

She was becoming very fond of both of Scarlett's children. Wade reminded her of herself; bookish and introverted with a streak of independence that occasionally asserted itself. As for Ella, Ella was sweet and silly and completely unreserved. She was the darling of the household, spoiled and petted by everyone from Carlen to Henry the elderly negro that saw to the yard.

Adoration of Ella was not limited strictly to the servants. Her mother spent hours fashioning smocks for Ella and dresses for her growing collection of dolls. Even Rosemary had found herself taking up crocheting again for the first time since after the war so that she could make Ella several blankets for her dolls. Ella, for all of her silliness, was essentially her mother's child. She could tilt her head to the side and look up with such appealingly wide eyes that the recipient of her soft, brown-eyed gaze found themselves doing whatever it was she wanted.

Well, everyone except Wade, Rosemary amended. But then, most brothers were immune from soft, entreating gazes.

They had arrived home in time to see Scarlett and Rhett off. Because of the earlier problems with Ross, Rhett had elected to send Maingo over earlier in the day with Jack and Jill, much to Miss Eleanor's relief. The birds had made a mess beneath their cages in addition to cawing and screeching throughout the night.

Before they left, Rhett had kissed Ella and told Wade to watch after her, a responsibility Wade obviously was prepared to take to heart. Scarlett had been somewhat reluctant to leave them behind, it was the first time she had been parted from them since their arrival and she spent several minutes assuring them both, but especially Ella, that they would be back in the morning. She whispered something to Wade and he nodded, looking well pleased with himself.

As soon as their mother kissed them good-bye one last time, he took Ella by the hand and brought her in the parlor to play a game of dominos.

She had joined them until teatime. After tea, the four of them had gone into the library to play a card game. Feigning a slight headache, she had asked her mother if she would excuse her for a while. Involved in a vigorous game of old maid, she had nodded and thanked her for the time she'd spent with the children earlier in the day. They were still slightly distant with one another, but slowly their argument was fading into an unpleasant memory.

Curiosity was nearly consuming her from the inside out when she unfolded the wax sealed note that Tia had thrust into her hand hours before.

Dearest,

First, let me assure you that I miss you and wish I were home. At present, I am sitting idle in a chair at the bedside of a woman who barely recalls me. When I first arrived, there was no recognition in her eyes, only a glazed distance that I have tried to bridge. I have done so, but with only minimal success. Occasionally she comes to and manages to make conversation, but for the most part, I have kept her heavily sedated to combat the pain of a mass in her throat that is rapidly swelling. I know you are a student of Latin, but I am unaware as to whether you know any old Greek. My patient suffers from a teratoma, which translates to 'monstrous tumor'. Through examination, I have deduced that it is pressing against her windpipe. It has become difficult for her to breath and throughout the day, I listen to the breath catching in her throat.

If she were any animal but a human being, by now she would have put her down rather than endure pointless suffering. Only on man do we inflict such suffering on an innocent creature. Were I a different man, I might be able to ease her from this mortal coil, but I cannot. I took my oath seriously when I swore it in France. Hence, I am left bound by those ancient words; first, I must do no harm. I must state that dosing her with massive amounts of opiates is equally repulsive and seems more harmful than other alternatives. There is no dignity to maintain at this point Rosemary, and my heart is sore because of it. What is left when one has lost dignity?

Sometimes, when she can manage it, we talk about the past. She tells me about her older brother and the life they shared on their family's plantation. Sometimes she confuses me with him and I am forced to humor her. How could I do any differently? These are her last days on this earth, I can find within myself patience to take her hand and be whoever it is she thinks I am, even a man whose been in his grave for years. But I am no martyr, least I give you the impression I consider myself one. I dread those lapses in her memory. I almost prefer her comatose to being confused with a young man who has been dead for over thirty years.

I have wanted to write you since the moment I arrived. I find myself composing letter after letter to you in my mind and none of them are right. Finally, I managed this one, I don't know if others will follow it. When it comes to you, I find that the rules I set in place for my self long ago seem to have shifted and I am left without compass to guide myself, nor the inclination to force myself to adhere to previous beliefs.

So, I write to you for a multitude of reasons. In the first place, I needed you to know how much I find myself missing you. Even on days when I couldn't see you when I was at home, I still knew you were only a few short blocks away. Now, I find the distance to be discouraging and I wish I could leave this place behind and find myself in your sweet presence.

The second reason is one of self-indulgence. I needed to put pencil to paper to relieve some of the tension I feel at sitting by this dying woman's side. She barely remembers me and I wonder, if she was completely aware, would want to have me watch her suffer the various indignities that come hand in glove with death? Knowing her as she once was, I doubt strongly that she would approve of me keeping a deathwatch. But, for reasons I cannot disclose to you at present, I am honor bound to stay and see this through to its inevitable conclusion.

When this ends, I will come home to you. Until then, know that I love you.

Jason

There was a short postscript below his name.

Burn this once you've read it. Tia has instructions to deliver it to you away from the prying eyes of anyone who might disapprove.

J.C.

She couldn't burn it. No matter how much she wanted to follow his instructions, she couldn't burn his note. Not when he told her that he loved her. Grabbing up a paper knife from her desk, she fell to her knees, and wriggled loose the floorboard by the window seat.

When they had first bought the house, or rather when Rhett had bought the house, the floorboards by the window seat had been rotted through and were replaced. One of the new pieces of planking was an ill fit with the rest of the flooring and Rosemary had discovered that by using a paperknife, she could pry up the board.

When she had been younger, the space beneath the floor had served as a hiding place. She'd hid extra candles and pastries for midnight feasts. Later, she had hid her journal, but after coming to the conclusion that her life was not exciting enough to necessitate the aggravation, she'd stopped. The other reason she'd ceased was that she didn't necessarily need a hiding place. Her mother wasn't the sort to ransack her room, but the idea of a secret hiding place had at one time tickled her bookish mind. She felt like a pirate queen or an outlaw, stashing her share of the booty.

Reverently, she laid his note down and put the board back into place. Using one of her Latin dictionaries, she lightly pounded the board back into place. She hated going against his wishes, but one day Jason would be glad she'd kept his letter. When she showed it to her own daughter and explained to her how sometimes you had to be brave enough to follow your heart, no matter the consequences.

She heard her mother calling from downstairs, with one last glance at the floor, she made her way downstairs.


	119. Reasons for the Seasons

**I apologize for the wait...**

**For Blah, thanks for the review...it inspired me**

Tapping the point of her pencil delicately against her nearly completed list, Scarlett glanced up from the small book in her lap before hastily directing her attention downward again. Rhett, hard at work, was oblivious to her occasional furtive glances. She smiled secretively to herself. He was so very handsome, especially now, as he worked diligently on the papers before him. He had been gone for much of the day, giving her time to think. 

The ride over on the launch had been smooth; the river was calm for which she was grateful. Slowly, she was becoming less afraid of being out on the water. It pleased her that she was conquering her fear. Sitting at the back of the small craft, they discussed the furniture that would be arriving the following week from Atlanta. Rhett told her that the house looked clean and the remaining staff remained diligent in their attentions towards its upkeep. She tried to care about the Atlanta house, but it was a part of her old life. Those times were over; she did not want to be reminded of them.

Looking forward to a leisurely afternoon of discussing the changes they were making to the Landing, Scarlett had been unpleasantly surprised by what had transpired upon their arrival. Rhett found a message waiting for him from the man who was in charge of rebuilding the levee system. Hastily, he apologized for leaving her before heading out for the rice fields. He had returned, but only briefly to wash up before leaving for Julia Ashley's. The levees had to be re-shored and for that, he needed to borrow some of Julia's workers to help if they were to finish before the planting season ended.

While changing his clothes, he continued to tell her about his plans. She had tried to look interested as he excitedly described to her the changes he would be making to the landscaping in front of the house. More flowers and trees, she surmised. It still seemed a little wasteful to focus so much time, effort and money on the grounds when the rice fields still were not properly irrigated. This time she held her tongue, not wanting to spoil his present state of happiness.

He had kissed her playfully on the nose and warned her to stay on the ground floor because the workers were about to resume re-shingling sections of the roof and there were concerns as to the structural integrity of a large section of the roof.

She had kept busy, reasoning his absence would not be so noticeable. Once word had reached the crews of their arrival, several of the wives of the men Rhett had employed to work on the house's façade had come to see her about securing work cleaning the interior of the house.

Once the women had left, Scarlett began to work methodically. Her mind was focused on the pile of papers on her makeshift desk in the corner of Rhett's study. The organizing of bills of sale from several haberdashers and incidental houses was tedious work, but it was something to do. One particular bill from a Mr. Adolph Meinecke of Milwaukee made her smile.

From one of his shops, she had ordered an elaborate baby carriage. The sketch of it caught her eye while she was paging through the Harper's Bazaar that Rhett had bought for her while she was still on bed rest. It was cunningly modeled after a calash. Mounted on the left and right sides of the carriage were two tiny, etch glass lanterns that would each hold a real candle. A folding calash top fashioned from a piece of leather backed Northumbrian tartan and hung with jet fringe topped the carriage, making it one of the most stylish things Scarlett had ever seen.

Stretching like a cat in the late afternoon sunshine that came through the French doors, Scarlett imagined the admiring glances of passersby's as she and Rhett took the new baby out for air in the afternoon. Perfect strangers would stop them to complement the flawless beauty of their child. Just as they had once done over Bonnie, perfect strangers would feel inclined to make a fuss over their new baby.

Thinking of Bonnie was always dangerous territory. She could never make up to Bonnie, as she could with Wade and Ella, the mistakes she'd made in the past. Bonnie would never have a chance to see another side to her formerly distant mother. Rhett swore to her that Bonnie loved her and knew her mother loved her in return. She fervently prayed that he had told her the truth.

Thinking about her youngest child and the walks with her carriage was something she tried never to do. How she had hated those walks; the dragons of the old guard greeting them with stiff formality as Rhett lapped at their shoes like a cat at a bowl of cream. He had been so un-Rhett like in his attempts to curry their favor. Walking with him and Bonnie had taken precious time away from the store and the mills and she was left resenting both her husband and child for their constant intrusions in her life. She wanted to be away from the both of them at the mills with Ashley. The quiet confines of her office at the store fell as a very close second.

What she remembered most about Bonnie's exquisite carriage had been the bells. The tiny silver bells adorning the reins of the make believe horse jangled endlessly as Bonnie gripped them in her tiny fists, shaking them enthusiastically. By the end of their daily constitutional, she often had a splitting headache that made her resent them both still further.

She had hated spending time with her child, and then, she was gone. She had been too blind to see that the mills and the stores weren't as important as she had made them out to be. Never could she have thought that one moment Bonnie would be there and the next, gone.

Time did not heal all wounds, not while she had her memories, but she was on the threshold of a new adventure, a new life would soon be starting within her and she could not wait to welcome it. This time she would be aware of every kick, every hiccup, every shallow fluttery movement; all things she had ignored or bemoaned as just one annoyance.

Bonnie had quickly outgrown the carriage. Wanting to preserve something that his child so loved, Rhett had it stored in the tack room of the stable in Atlanta, under a piece of oilcloth. He must have expected it to become a family heirloom she now realized. She wondered if he'd pictured Bonnie one day pushing her own child in it. It had stayed out in the tack room undisturbed until the night of Bonnie's funeral.

After her funeral, when Rhett had not returned home, she had gone to the stable and broken down next to that carriage. When she came to her feet, she jostled the carriage and the bells on the reins had tinkled merrily in the semi-darkness. Mocking her. Reminding her. Condemning her.

Stuffing her fist in her mouth for several minutes smothered the cries of despair that nearly ripped from her throat. Once she composed herself, she had one of the stable boys bury it. She thought about burning it so that she would never lay eyes on it again but she could not bring herself to give the order. Burying it put it out of sight leaving her with an option to retrieve it if she one day changed her mind.

On impulse, to banish the memory of the baby carriage in Atlanta, she placed the order for the new carriage, specifying it be delivered to Sally Brewton's home. She mentioned to Sally that she had bought Rhett a surprise gift and she feared if she sent it to Miss Eleanor's, he would open it and ruin the surprise. Sally, ever the practical joker agreed immediately to accept the delivery.

Rhett would be so happy when she told him that she wanted another baby. It was something he once wanted; only now did she realize how badly. She had turned him from her bed, excusing that gesture by claiming it was about the damage having another child would wreck on her life. It was true that she hadn't wanted another child after Bonnie, but that had not been the motivating force behind banishing Rhett.

How terrible and sad that once she had dreaded having a child. Now that she was nearly seven years older and what seemed a hundred years wiser, she could think of nothing else. This time when she was handed her child for the very first time, she would hold it close, breathing in that soft scent that defied description. She would trace its features with the tip of her finger and commit them to memory so that she could revisit those memories when her child was grown. Holding that baby, she would tell it that fortunes could be changed if you had enough courage and sense to know you should try.


	120. A Legacy

Chapter: 120

**This chapter keeps disappearing, stupid free website that hosts my story!**

It was after seven o'clock before Rhett returned. They ate dinner in front of the study fire, a dinner that Rhett personally arranged, making sure all of her favorites were present. She was touched to see the consideration that went into the meal and she said so, several times, winning from him pleasant smiles and tender glances. Life with Rhett could be so enjoyable when he was happy. She had forgotten just how much she enjoyed the early days of their marriage.

They had lingered over the small table that served as a makeshift dinner table; toasting each other with one outrageous toast after another until they finished a bottle of wine between them, leaving Scarlett with a heady sense of excitement. A coy smile settled on her lips as she reached out to push back the lock of hair that always fell across his brow. "I need your help. Without Penny, I won't be able to change out of my dress." Widening her bright eyes, she cocked her head to one side, "Would you care to help a lady in distress?"

"A gentleman should never refuse a lady."

One black brow rose slightly, "Since there isn't one here, would you step in?"

Chuckling softly, he offered her his hand and helped her from the table. They spoke only a little on the way upstairs, the stairs were still difficult for Scarlett to manage and she felt a little unwieldy as she clung to his arm. In their bedroom she had tried to pretend as though there wasn't a care in the world that she could call her own. She had so many plans for this evening unfortunately, they seemed to unravel from the moment they entered their bedroom.

When they'd first married, it has disconcerted her when he would undress her. The obvious skill he had evidenced in undoing a woman's clothing made her feel something that at the time she could not name, now she knew it to be jealousy. She hated them, the faceless, nameless women he had taken to bed over the years. Belle had a face, but there had been others. Sometimes, when she had too much to drink after he'd left her in Atlanta, she would lie in bed, dizzy from a half bottle of brandy and wonder, wonder what sort of women he was taking to bed in Charleston.

She knew he had been unfaithful to her, she had never expected him to not want anyone else besides her. In fact, she had seriously doubted him when he had told her that he had been faithful during the first two years of their marriage. Men where different then women, they could not help to satisfy their lusts.

Now though, well if she admitted the truth of their present relationship, now was different. If she thought that he had touched another woman since he had vowed to love her with his whole heart, she would shoot the woman he had bedded first so that he would know what was in store for him.

"Did I tell you how beautiful you looked in this dress," he murmured in her ear as he begun to undress her. The brushing of his hands against her back as he unfastened her dress made her tingle in such a way that she could hardly keep herself from turning to him and pressing herself against his unyielding chest. His hands molded themselves to her hips briefly, before he untied the sash around her waist. If he meant to drive her to madness with his touch, he was succeeding behind comprehension. His breath warmed the patch of skin at the base of the back of her neck when he leaned forward to loosen the knotted strings of her corset. She had allowed Penny to lace her into it this afternoon wanting to look her best for their time together at the Landing.

When her dress mounded at her feet, she extended her hand to him, allowing him to help her step over the heap of discarded fabric. She sat on the bed and slid her chemise up her legs until it rested on her thighs. His dark gaze was intent on every move she made, putting into her mind a hawk watching its prey, untying her garters, she lifted her eyes to his and making certain he was watching her, she never looked away as she rolled first one stocking then the other down her pale, softly rounded legs.

When she was clad in just her chemise, she stood. Keeping her back straight, she squared her shoulders lifting her firm, high breasts. The sheer Irish linen silhouetted her body and she knew that she was beautiful. It was obvious that she wanted him. Scarlett waited for a moment for him to take her in his arms, but it soon became clear that he was not going to make any sort of advance.

"Scarlett, it's chilly here at night, do you have a dressing gown with you," he asked.

Annoyed, but undeterred, she silently applauded herself for packing a dressing gown that displayed more then it concealed. Initially, she'd ordered it from her dressmaker in Atlanta hoping that she could use it to entice Rhett.

"My robe in on the chair by the fireplace," she said softly, "would you bring it over here?"

He complied, sliding the garment onto her body with a gentleness that only increased her desire for him. "Do you like it?" Scarlett asked smiling innocently, "I saw the fabric on a bolt at Mrs. Lambert's in Atlanta when I was picking up some things for my nieces and Sue and I couldn't help myself," she told him, gently stroking her hand down the royal blue velvet collar. She allowed the flat of her palm to lightly cup the inner curve of her breast as though by chance, when she withdrew her hand, she managed to displace some of the fabric that concealed her bosom.

With only a single, seemingly involuntary glance at her prominently displayed cleavage, he told her there were things he wanted to attend to before retiring for the night. She had to swallow back a bubble of nervous laughter. It would appear that before seduction, came matters that were slightly more practical. She told him that she would go back down with him; everything needed to be in order before Thursday when Ashley and Beau arrived. After that, she would not have the time to devote to the Landing until Ashley's departure.

In the study, she settled into her comfortable chair before the fire. Without being asked, Rhett drew forward the square ottoman he found for her to rest her feet on. She'd found that if she elevated her feet occasionally it helped relieve the still present twinges of pain in her hips and lower back. The ottoman, little thing that it was, still meant the world to her. Rhett, with the help of Wade, had brought it down from his own room during their first visit. She hadn't asked him to, he'd just done it for her. That he made the gesture reassured her that he intended to continue to take care of her, just as he'd promised.

As she finished tallying a column of numbers, she risked another furtive glance in Rhett's direction. The figures for the interior renovation materials were slipshod. She had based them on educated guesses and not fact. Her educated guesses were most likely close, she had sold a great deal of lumber over the years and had always been good at on the spot estimates, but still, it would bother her if they were over or worse, under. If they were over the materials could be utilized for other projects, if they were under it would stop progress on the rooms and delay other projects.

On their last visit, revisions were made to the final list of rooms to restore. Since that visit, they'd gone back over the list several times. Rhett would try to add additional rooms that he wanted to see brought back into use while she, with her less nostalgic view of the Landing, was able to keep the list down to the essentials. Now positions were reversed, her heart was the dictating force behind adding another room to their list, the neglected bedroom next to their own. Once restored, the dilapidated bedroom would be the perfect room for the baby.

They wouldn't need it for sometime, but she could not wait to order an entire layette. Briefly, Scarlett thought about waiting until they went up to bed but the anticipation of his happiness was too much for her. No time like the present to tell him that she was ready, she thought excitedly. How happy he would be to learn that she was finally ready to have a baby that she wouldn't consider an unpleasant surprise. Nor would this baby be an unforeseen consequence of circumstances.

Her mind drifted back to the numbers on the sheet of paper before her. That was the perfect way to tell him, she would pretend to raise the topic of the cost of restoring another room. When he asked why, then she would surprise him. Who knew, she thought, suppressing another nervous giggle, that seduction and practicality could partner one another in such a complementary manner?

Only the occasional chirps of bats hunting in the black tupelo trees that grew at the rivers edge had broken the compatible silence between them as they each tackled their respective projects. Her heart raced with happiness as she put the pencil and pad on the table. This was how it's supposed to feel, she reflected. Talking about bringing a baby into the world should be something that fills you with excitement and perhaps a little trepidation, but most of all joy.

"Rhett?" Her voice was louder than she expected, echoing slightly in the quiet room. She felt exposed then, as if the house and future generations of Butler's were holding their collective breaths to bear witness to this moment.

Not realizing the enormity of what was on her mind; Rhett did not look up from the sketch he was labeling. "Mm," he murmured.

"Rhett," she tried again.

"What is it Scarlett?" He asked, acknowledging her this time. She waited, but he did not look up from the pad on which he was sketching a layout of the front flowerbeds.

She needed his undivided attention and was not about to hesitate in securing it. "Rhett, it's important."

Looking up, his pencil stilled over the pad. "More important than planning out the front beds?" he teased lightly. "I could see how you might think that, but if I left it to you, we'd have cotton and carrots out front instead of camellias and magnolias."

She ignored his lighthearted barb about her priorities where agriculture was concerned. "Would you put that down," she smiled beguilingly, "please?"

Laying his work to one side, he looked closely at her. She had been somewhat agitated for the last two days. At first, he had assumed it was just another part of their ongoing readjustment period, that she was just excited about his return to Charleston, but the way she held herself now told a different tale. Her slim, elegant hands were tightly gripped together, but still, they trembled slightly in spite of her best efforts to still them. He began to rise. "What is it? Are you in any pain?"

"No, I feel fine, really." She smiled reassuringly, "Truly, I do. You can sit down," her eyes met his and she looked calmer now. Reassured, he took his seat once more. "I was thinking…"

One side of his mouth went up in a baiting grin and he made a reply before he could stop himself. "A dangerous pastime."

Disregarding his attempt at levity, Scarlett began twisting the sash that held her dressing gown closed. "Don't tease me, don't you want to know what it is I'm thinking about?" she blurted out, blushing hectically. She had so wanted to find just the right words to tell him, but evidently, the right words were going to be whatever ones she could manage to string together into a coherent sentence.

He gestured for her to continue. "I am on tenterhooks."

"I was thinking, I know we've already agreed on what rooms needed to be done immediately. I've been giving it some thought and I want to add one more bedroom."

"Not for me I hope," he jibbed lightly.

"No," she answered slowly, "not for you Rhett. I know we'd chosen the master suite, your study, the kitchen and breakfast room and the four other bedrooms, but I just thought," she twisted the sash even tighter around her hand, "well, we might need an extra room. It would be easier to just do it now, rather than wait and see if we do need it…" There was gentleness her face that he had seldom seen and he knew what she was going to suggest before she concluded with, "In case of unexpected arrivals."

Her hands were still now; her robe's belt, gnarled by her earlier twisting, lay forgotten in her lap. The humor flew from his face as he came swiftly to his feet, surprising her.

She raised her face, and he tried not to soften but that was a nearly impossible task. It seemed odd that his mind went to the Wilkes at a time like this, but it did and he knew why. Since she had taken ill and died, Rhett had placed the bulk of the blame for the pregnancy that had killed Miss Melly on the shoulders of the weak willed Mister Wilkes. He had known the risk and yet he had gotten Miss Melly with child. He had blamed Ashley Wilkes for not being able to say no to his wife, but now he wondered if she had looked at him like Scarlett was, her beautiful eyes were soft and loving, but filled with growing uncertainty as she waited for his reply.

Taking in the anxious look in her turbulent emerald eyes, he attempted to dissuade her gently. "I don't want you taking on too much. Why don't we finish the original rooms we selected, then we could see about what comes next."

"Fiddle dee dee, one more room isn't so much work."

"It can wait," he reiterated firmly.

Her jaw became hard and though she spoke softly still the look of grim determination that had drawn her brows down and forced the previous softness from her expression warned him that she was not about to let the topic drop.

"Maybe, it can't wait."

"Scarlett, I think for the time being we should just fix the bedrooms that we need, not ones that we might need someday. What we need in the future can be addressed when we do need it."

She turned her face away from him, and he knew that he had disappointed her with his less then enthusiastic response. "We might need another room sooner than you think," said Scarlett.

The look in his eyes took her aback. There was something in his eyes very like fear but she dismissed that notion almost immediately as being too ridiculous for further consideration. "Rhett?" she asked hesitantly.

"Is there something that you need to tell me?" His jaw was taunt, his voice strained.

She closed her eyes for a moment longer than it took to blink and he moved forward, dreading her next words. "No. I just want to be prepared, for any sort of eventuality."

"It's too soon."

Drawing back in her chair, she felt as though he'd thrown a pitcher of ice water in her face. "Too soon for what?" Scarlett asked, astonished at his words. A child would be a blessing; it would tie them together, keeping them focused on being a family and not letting all they had slip away. How could it be too soon to make their family whole?

"Sweetheart," he began, "Don't misconstrue what it is that I mean. I'm not saying we can never try again..."

Her expression changed from anxious to nearly frantic as she watched her hope for their perfect future slip away. He wasn't even going to listen to what she had to say, she thought angrily, his mind was made up so that was that. Well, if that's what he thought, he was about to be very surprised. She wasn't going to just take no for an answer, not without making him see her side. "You didn't even give me a chance to say what it is that I want to say, if you'd just listen, you might think differently."

"There isn't anything else that you need to say. I know what it is that you're hinting at. There is not a doubt in my mind, we need to wait."

"For how long?" She demanded, her voice sounding shrill even to her own ears.

"A year, perhaps two, then if you still feel as you say you do now we can try…"

"A year?" she asked incredulously. "Or two? Why would you want to wait so long? Things are different from what they once were, aren't they? I love you; I know you love me…" There was only one other thing she could think to say to try to bring him around to her point of view, "I know how much you loved Bonnie..."

His dark eye dimmed at the mention of her name. "I don't think you do. I loved her so very much and not a day goes by that I don't think of her, that I don't see something that makes me think of how she'd enjoy it. But, no matter how much I miss her; another child wouldn't change those feelings. No other child could replace her."

"I don't want to replace her," she cried, temporarily mollified by the pain in his expression, "I know that isn't possible. There could never be another little girl like her, that wasn't what I meant. I just want another chance. Another baby will give us the chance to set things right, to make a family the way we should have the first time." Her chest was heaving as though she'd run a mile. "You…" she trailed off, swallowing back tears. She would not cry, if she did, there was no possible way to continue to rationally discuss her plans. "Don't you want to have a baby?"

"I do, but…"

Her face had developed an unearthly pallor as she came to her feet, the cane skidding slightly across the floor. "Just not with me," she accused him in a strained voice, voicing her secret fear. That he might want her at present, but he in fact was not yet convinced that she was the woman with whom he would spend the rest of his life.

"Scarlett, there has never been another woman before you that I wanted to have children with."

She could not be deterred. "What about after me?" Scarlett demanded, "When you came back here, was there anyone else that you could have fallen in love with. That you could have married? While you were here, thinking that our marriage was over, did you…"

Anticipating the direction of her next question and not wanting to lie to her, he cut her off in mid-sentence. "Don't be ridiculous." There was a hint of anger in his smooth drawl. He wanted to comfort her, but she had gone on the offensive. History could not help but repeat itself, no matter how far they thought they'd come in the three weeks since the accident. There would always be a part of him that couldn't help but respond to the gauntlets she' would throw down. "You announce, out of nowhere, that you want a baby and expect me to fall into line never once considering that I might have an opinion contrary to yours. Can't you respect that I want to wait until we're settled?"

"Till we as a family or till you and I are settled? I thought you knew how you felt about me, how I feel about you. Don't you know how much I love you? When I thought that I'd lost you, there wasn't anything in this world that I wouldn't have done to win you back. You're the only man that's looked past my face or how I look in a party dress and seen who I am. You know who I am, and what I'm capable of and you love me for it. I know who you are and I love you for everything you are and for what you aren't, what more is there to settle?"

The raw despair in her words calmed him; he didn't want to hurt her. He couldn't bear to do it if he could offer comfort instead. "Scarlett, I love you." When she smiled wanly, he felt that he could continue without further upsetting her. You have to see though that things between us weren't as settled as we thought. We seem to have a major difference of opinion on something that is very important."

"I love you so much, that's why I want a baby. To show you just how much."

"A baby should come out of love, not to prove love." Rhett attempted to appeal to her practical side, "We don't have a house, and we still have business interests in two states."

"So, what does that all have to do with anything?"

"Let me finish a sentence Scarlett, please." She winced at his words, but nodded. When he knew that she would allow him to continue, he spoke. ""I'll also admit that I'm a little selfish. I want you to myself for a while. Wade will start school in a few weeks and I thought we would get Ella a tutor until the fall. Then, if you like, she could go to your sister's school. After that, I thought that maybe we would travel. There's a whole world out there, I'd like to show you some of it."

"I don't need anymore world than what's here in Charleston."

"What about Ireland? I know you've wanted to go there for years, there are so many things in the world, wonderful things, and I want to share them with you."

The emerald hued eyes that he loved were cold now, watching him with disappointment clearly visible in their bottomless depths. "I am not a child," she said, enunciating every syllable, "you cannot dangle treats in front of me to distract me when I want something that you feel is unsuitable. I don't care how wonderful things are elsewhere. I want a baby, you do too, I know you do," she took a step toward him, her eyes beseeching him to tell the truth, "don't you?" she asked.

His eyes were haunted, shadowed by memories of the last time they'd discussed a baby, or rather, the last time she had offered him a baby. Then it was an offer born of an attempt to reel him back in from the brink of madness, now she was offering out of love. He could not help but feel that she was prompted by a sense of obligation. If she loved him, she must have reasoned, then that meant giving him a child he erroneously concluded. He did not want her to feel obligated to risk her health, not for him.

"No," he lied reluctantly, his face was somber and his voice quiet as he tried to galvanize his heart against the despair in her stricken expression, "I don't want a baby."


	121. Undone

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAD STEPH**

**And**

**HAPPY ANNIVERSARY FACING THE ENEMY….**

**Welcome to start of year three, yeah, I also figured I would be done by now…**

**At least its not February anymore, as a good friend told me last night, it's not like real time.**

Scarlett came closer, stopping just before him. The rosewater she would have patted on her hair earlier in the evening scented the air. Its spicy, sweet scent clung to her, making him want to bury his face in her ebony hair and tell her why it was he was denying her request.

If he confessed that it was a fear of her dying that kept him from giving her a child, she would dismiss his concerns out of hand because her mind was already made up. Once Scarlett dug her heels in, there was no dislodging her. At best, she would appear to hear him out then toss her hair over her shoulders and tell him he was being overly cautious. With his whole being he wanted to believe that was the case, that he had nothing to concern himself with when it came to her health.

He wanted to believe that, wanted to pretend that she had not been terribly and irrevocably injured when she fell in Atlanta but he had never been a man given to self-deluding himself, she was not fully recovered, perhaps she never would be. Until they sought out a doctor's opinion, he would protect her from what could be a dangerous undertaking.

But, every resolution to see to her well being nearly crumbled in the face of what was before him. Scarlett stood, watching him as tears slowly streaked down her pale, composed face. He knew that Scarlett was no innocent, she could lay claim to countless transgressions, but at that moment, he felt as though he were staring into the eyes of a fallen angel. The longer he stood there, forcing himself to hold her gaze, the more certain he was that he was doing the right thing, losing her would destroy him. Though it caused him pain that was almost physical in nature, he could not tear himself away from her glittering, pain filled eyes. Hurting her was something he'd never wanted to do again, but if it was necessary to hurt her in order to save her from herself, then so be it.

"Scarlett," the taunt, unfamiliar tone of his voice made her cringe, startling her out of whatever corner of her mind she had retreated to. "I didn't mean to hurt you…"

"You are a liar," she whispered hoarsely. "You wanted more children after Bonnie."

Rhett closed his eyes, drawing in a harsh breath. "I may have briefly entertained the thought, but…"

"Stop it," she cried, "just stop it. Why won't you stop lying to me, I know you wanted more children. You told Mammy after Bonnie was born that someday you would want a son. Then there's what you told me," as she grew progressively angrier, slight tremors ran through her body, "you said that you wanted the baby that we lost, you love children so much Rhett, why can't you want this too."

He was coming undone, she was right, he had wanted a son after Bonnie, a dark, handsome little boy with her jade colored eyes and his charm. "I did want more children, once, but that was a long time ago, before everything else that happened."

"How can you just dismiss this, without giving it any further thought? Don't you at least want to sleep on it, give yourself some time to consider it?" Scarlett asked plaintively

Under her brilliant eyes, there were slight shadows, like faint smudges of charcoal on the tips of an artist's fingers. She was still not well and what she needed was rest, happiness and time to heal; not the risks that would come from a pregnancy that could prove to be difficult. "We aren't having a baby, not now."

There was a terrible finality in his words. She knew that he meant them and they ripped open old wounds that ran deeper than even she realized. It felt as if he was rejecting her love once again. After she had told him she loved him in Atlanta, he had left her without any further discussion. His mind had been made up and he'd left no room in his mind for argument.

It was that remembered feeling of rejection coupled with despair at having her hopes dashed that drove her to strike at him. "Is this my punishment?"

They were face to face, the space between them was no more than a foot, but it seemed an insurmountable chasm. "What are you talking about?"

"I once told you that I didn't want anymore children. When you came home from London, I told you that, don't you remember? I said that I didn't want your children, that I wished my child belonged to anyone but you, is this your way of finally getting back at me?"

"Could you truly think that's what this is? That my wanting to wait is retribution? I could not have a less selfish reason for wanting to wait? That's what you still think of me, that I arbitrarily make decisions based on the amount of pain I can cause you? "

"Don't you? I have agonized over how to tell you I wanted another baby. All that time and effort wasted, planning for a child that you obviously don't want."

Scarlett, it's never suited you to attempt to take on the role of the wronged party. I didn't say I never wanted another child, you do recall that, don't you? I only said I wanted time for us before trying again."

"I could accept this if you'd give me a reason why we should wait? Explain that to me, what could be so different a year from now?"

"It's complicated…"

"And I'm too much of a fool to understand?" she cried furiously.

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to," she replied, lifting her hand to lightly massage her temple. Some of the anger drained from her face and he reached out to gently run his knuckles down her damp cheek. "You loved Bonnie so much, you told me that you would have loved the other baby, why can't you find it within yourself to try again?"

Drawing back his hand abruptly, he looked away. "Don't do that."

"You had so little time with her, I wish with all my heart that I could change that. I didn't know what it was to want a child, to want to give that sort of love to someone else, not until I found out about the other baby. I didn't even have a chance to try. I lost the baby and before I could begin to start again with Bonnie, we lost her too."

"You have Wade and Ella. They love you; even before you started trying to reach out to them, they loved you. Let them be enough for now."

She drew back a step further to put some distance between them. "If we have things your way, does that mean we go back to the way things were in Atlanta? The two of us in separate beds, wanting to be together but both too damn proud or just too plain stupid to do anything about it?"

"It doesn't have to be that way."

"I don't see any other way it can be. I may not be as clever as you, but I certainly know how a baby is made. Just how long do you think we'll be able to stay on our respective sides of the bed?"

Withdrawing a handkerchief from his pocket, he waved it briefly, a wry smile on his lips. She nodded; accepting a momentary truce between them. Rhett handed her the handkerchief and gestured to the couch where she seated herself without any outward signs of reluctance. Her chest hurt and she could not have remained standing much longer. Once she was settled, he poured her a tumbler of brandy.

Drained from their argument, she stared dumbly at the glass for a moment before accepting, taking only a small sip before putting the glass down on the low table in front of her, her chest ached from holding back a storm of tears and her heart ached at the way he had so abruptly crushed her dreams of a child. "So what happens now?" She asked. "Do we go on and pretend that this didn't happen?"

He sat beside her; his glass joined hers on the table, untouched. "Scarlett, for the first time, in a long time, I enjoy coming home. Before you came, I would come back to mother's house at the end of the day and it was just a place to eat meals and sleep. I love my mother and sister, but they aren't enough to make a home for me. You and our children make me feel that I am a part of something, something I didn't appreciate until I left it behind me. Last week, I could not conclude my business fast enough to suit me. I wanted to be in Charleston with you and the children. I never expected to be as happy as I am now."

Wiping her face with his handkerchief, she remarked drearily, "Why is it that we can't ever seem to manage to both be happy at the same time?"

"Because we've never tried particularly hard to build a life together. You went your way and I went mine. Your changing your last name to Butler and me putting on a wedding ring were only symbolic gestures, they didn't change who we intrinsically were because we made no concentrated effort to change."

"Have we changed so much? It feels like we are right back to where we started from."

"That isn't so and you know it. This is an argument, if we forgive it and move on, its nothing more than some heated words. I am happy, I think that, in spite of your recent disappointment, you've been happy these past few weeks."

"Any particular reason why you are so happy? I know I am happy, but it's hard to put into words."

Appraising the way her dressing gown emphasized her full bosom and slender build, his sensuous lips curved into a smile. "Does part of that happiness you can't express come from the way certain aspects of our relationship have changed."

"You mean us sharing a bed again?"

He smiled. "Again? I think that this is the first time in the whole of our marriage that we've truly shared a bed. We've never shared a bed as married people are supposed to. I was there and you were there, but you didn't want to be in my bed or at least, you didn't when you considered the alternative. I wanted you in my bed, but I wanted you to be someone that you weren't. I wanted the Scarlett O'Hara I thought you'd become upon realizing it was me you were madly in love with and not the wooden headed Mister Wilkes."

She gave a hiccup of laughter "You were waiting for me to fall madly in love with you?"

"Is the idea so far fetched? Then again, I have a very high opinion of myself, at the time I believed I was worthy of your complete and utter devotion."

"You weren't very kind," she said, her eyes downcast.

He studied her with a level gaze until she looked up. "Neither were you."

She flinched slightly at that. "I suppose not. I don't want us to stop sharing a bed; I did regret banishing you; the minute I did it. But, how long do you think we can lie there and not…" She flushed to the roots of her dark hair.

"Make love?" He finished for her. Taking her hand, Rhett idly began stroking her knuckles. "You continue to surprise me, you're so frank about certain things, but there are some remnants of the gently reared southern belle you once were. I don't want us to stop making love, but there are precautions we can take to prevent conceiving a child."

The pulse in her throat fluttered erratically as her heart sped up, beating so fast that her vision swam briefly as she became lightheaded. "I couldn't," she said swiftly, nearly choking on the words as they tumbled from her lips, "when I said that Mamie Bart had told me all about how to do such a thing, I don't think I could have actually gone through with it."

The conversation she was referring to had haunted him for months after its conclusion. One night she'd come home, announced she was going to have his child and that she didn't want it. He had been hurt and angry, but it was not unexpected that she would feel that way so he did nothing more than cast a few sharp comments at her. It was only when she declared that not only did she not want the child she carried, but that she would not have it that she was able to force him to a display of emotion. As she stood before him in their bedroom, parroting the words of a former madam about how to rid oneself of an unwanted child he grabbed her by the wrist, not caring if he hurt her because he was scared. Rhett Butler, master of his own fate who cared for nothing in the world, cared about the pale, angry child-woman before him.

He demanded the name of the person who had told her. She only managed to sputter out Mamie Bart's before he told her that she would never step foot in his house again. As he questioned her as to just what the woman had told her, his rage grew, blood pounded in his ears, nearly drowning out her voice.

It felt as though nothing would ever assuage his rage except strangling the life from Mamie Bart for putting the idea in Scarlett's head. The thought of some back alley butcher laying his hands on her, her delicately rose tinted skin turning white as her blood ran from her body was enough to make him consider locking her in their room until the baby came.

That conversation had made him privy to a hard truth that he'd long been trying to deny. He loved her. While sitting in their room listening to her innocently declare that it would fix things right up, he had realized that what he felt for her ran even deeper than he'd previously suspected.

He attempted to draw her close but she recoiled, pushing away his hands. "Scarlett, stop, you've misunderstood me. There are ways to circumvent pregnancy, that is to say, there are precautions that can be taken to ensure that you don't become pregnant."

Curiosity at the implications of what he had just said gave her a moment's pause. She knew that you could rid yourself of a baby, but stop one from coming into being in the first place? But if that were possible…Understanding flickered in her eyes and they narrowed suspiciously "These methods, surely they aren't new? Did you know about them when I told you I didn't want any more children?" She did not allow him time to answer before plunging forward, "When you asked me to marry you and told me it would be fun, I told you all marriage means to a woman is a roof over her head and a baby every year. There was something you could have done then, wasn't there?"

"Yes."

"But you chose to let nature take its course?"

It was now his turn to look vaguely uncomfortable at the frank direction their conversation was taking. She was staring at him, her pupils gone wide as she waited for his reply. "Early on, I tried not to finish in you."

"Oh!" she exclaimed, anger instantly replaced with embarrassment. "I didn't notice," she mumbled self-consciously.

"That was the idea, I had thought to wait until we were more comfortable with one another to raise the idea of a child."

"You couldn't have thought the time was right when I found out about Bonnie?"

"Once we were in our house, I thought things would change but, they didn't. Day after day, I had to watch you come home with that distant look that you wore every time you'd seen Ashley Wilkes, I couldn't stand that," he admitted reluctantly, "I spent a small fortune building a house that I detested and still, it wasn't enough to win the least part of you. In time, I came to accept that I didn't matter, not the way he did. And still, I wanted to make you take notice of me. I wanted to have you, completely." He gave her a grin that was slightly cruel in nature. "I also wanted Ashley Wilkes to have tangible proof that you were mine. Your body, at any rate, I knew I didn't have your heart or mind and after a while, I believed I never would. Once I came to believe that, I sought to distance myself from you, hoping it wouldn't hurt so much."

"You told me you didn't care if I had one child or twenty, you told me that you didn't want the baby either," she murmured, feeling bereft at the reminder of yet another lost opportunity to see the feelings that he had been concealing from her.

"I was lying. It's something I do exceedingly well."

"Apparently so, I certainly believed you."

"I'm not sorry I made the choices I did. However, I didn't make them for entirely selfish reasons. I thought a child would tie us together. I believed that if you saw how much I loved a child you'd given me, you might realize why I felt the way I did. I loved Bonnie so much because she was a piece of you. That's the same reason why I love Wade and Ella. You said before that I love children, that isn't so. I love your children, because they are yours."

Scarlett looked into the fire for a long time. When she spoke, her voice was soft. He knew it was hard for her to continue to look back so he allowed her to take time to gather her thoughts without interruption. "She was so special, I'm glad that you stopped me from…what I considered doing. I wouldn't have, I don't think I could have once I had stopped to think about it."

"She was special. I've always believed that, she was the best of us both."

Scarlett picked up her glass, but she did not drink it. Instead, she held it tightly, gently swirling the contents to watch the surface shimmer in the flickering firelight. "You didn't regret the choice you made then, are you so sure about now? If I had been given a choice beforehand, I would have never had Bonnie. We both know that's true. You think that us waiting to try for a child is the right decision? Maybe you are ruining something wonderful before it has a chance to begin. Are you sure you're making the right decision?"

He did not hesitate. "Yes."

Placing the glass back on the table, she drew in a small, resigned breath. "The… method," she managed, pronouncing the word with such vehemence it sounded like a swear word, "you used when we were first married, it can't be fool proof, not all of the time. I don't know very much about certain things, but I do know that. If you don't stop when you should, we might still have a baby." The last observation was offered with a note of hopefulness that did not escape his notice.

"There are other methods. The one I want us to use is generally foolproof. It could fail, but it's unlikely that it will so long as we're careful."

"Other methods," she echoed, "I don't understand what you mean."

"There's something a man can wear while he is inside a woman, a sheath that can be made of several different sorts of materials. While I'm wearing it, I won't be able to …"

The flame of color that stained her checks and the exposed column of her throat told him that he did not have to continue his vague explanation. To his surprise, it was evident that she knew exactly what he was talking about.

After they had returned from their honeymoon, she'd begun to keep company with the wives of Rhett's speculator friends while turning her back on the few members of the old guard that still acknowledged her. Though she knew that her mother would have disapproved of them, these fascinating women had drawn her in. They were a different breed entirely from the women of the old guard; indeed, from anyone she'd ever known. The best part about them had been their knowledge of things that she'd never heard before. Beautiful, grasping and ready to rise in the new world of the conquered south; they were fonts of scandalous knowledge.

One afternoon, several months after the birth of Bonnie, she had attended a card party. They seldom played cards for very long before turning to gossiping and small glasses of port. During a lull in the conversation, they had inevitably turned to the inevitable topic of childbirth.

Lilly Baker poured another glass of port and said with a satisfied smirk, "Why should a woman have to endure it if she chooses not to." Another woman, Scarlett had forgotten her name, had asked how could a woman chose not to. She had been glad someone else had asked, it was a question that she was curious about the answer to.

Laughing, Lily told her that all women should find a French pen friend if they felt that way. Mamie Bart roared with laughter, commenting that French had been her best subject in school. From the giggles and knowing looks that passed between several of the women in the room, she knew that they were discussing something that was exceedingly risqué.

Before she could find the courage to inquire further, Mamie Bart had winked at her. "I admire you Scarlett. You hooked Rhett Butler and after just one baby sent him packing to the guest room." Embarrassed that their sleeping arrangement had been common knowledge, she had let the matter drop and when the subject changed, she joined in the conversation with a gusto that must have greatly amused those present.

"What I once suggested was because I was too stupid to see what a gift a baby is, for the love God, what you want us to do to stop a baby is wrong, it may even be a sin."

"Spare me a sermon, since when have you been overly concerned with the word of the Lord?" Rhett inquired coolly. "I thought your time spent at church was a ploy to convince the Archbishop to sell you Careen's share of Tara, have you turned religious zealot on me?"

"I found myself concerned right around the time my husband suggested we employ tricks only used by the madam of a whorehouse," she grimaced, "Where are my manners, how is Belle?"

"She's doing well. Actually, she asked about you as well. If you want to know if I got them from Belle, the answer is yes. There have been laws passed in the last year that make it far more difficult to procure such items. Currently, the madam of a whorehouse is one of the few people I could get such things from."

"What happened to the Rhett Butler who told me what you wanted you took if you could get it?" She asked bitterly. "You claimed not to wrestle with angels or devils over the things you did. It's clear now that you have an angel on your shoulder, admonishing you to behave."

It was after midnight, the conversation had not gone as he intended and he was tired of it. He thought she would be glad to learn that he didn't want children and instead she had turned his world upside down, shattering the peace of mind he'd gained while in Atlanta. "Let's go up to bed, we can discuss this tomorrow."

"Why wait?" she taunted softly, "Let's finish it now or have you turned coward suddenly."

She knew him better than he'd previously realized. She was able to infuriate him when she wanted to. Any sign that she had and she would seize on it, he refused to allow her that much power over him. "This conversation is over."

"So the topic is closed because you say it is? Now whose insane?"

"If I am, it's because you've driven me to it," he retorted with a trace of humor.

"I was serious before, what happened to the man I knew who wasn't afraid to take risks, to challenge fate?"

"He died a horrible, painful death when he saw what the outcome of his actions were."

She turned slightly from him, trying to regroup her scattered thoughts. This could not be the end of her hopes for them, for their family. The room was stuffy and the idea of going up to bed was tempting; her dressing gown was too heavy for the temperamental spring weather and she would be glad to shed it.

She glanced down, her dressing gown had parted when she had moved away from Rhett, the flickering candlelight cast deep shadows on the exposed valley between her pale breasts. Had Rhett noticed? She quickly turned her head, catching him before he could avert his gaze.

Inwardly trembling, she reached up and deliberately slid the dressing gown from her shoulders, letting it lightly skim down her forearms. "You want me, I can see it in your eyes."

He raised one black brow, seeing her eyes glitter with amusement ignited some spark of predatory male pride. "So what if I do," he countered, "Do you think that I can't stop myself from going too far?"

"Do I think you can control yourself? Sober, definitely. It's when you've had too much to drink that you lose control. I wonder, how long do you think it will be before…"

An involuntary shriek tore from her lips when he grabbed her forearms and hauled her across the narrow expanse of couch that had previously separated them. His hard, black gaze penetrated her to her soul and she tried to turn away, but he caught her chin, forcing her to look at him. "It amazes me that no matter how much you seem to change, you still become that petulant child who throws a tantrum when her every wish isn't granted."

She struggled against him, her hands pressed against his chest as she tried to break his hold on her. "Because I'm disappointed that makes me a petulant child?"

"No, throwing accusations around and declaring that I am punishing you over long ago slights, that's childish. Bringing up the past and using it to try and goad me into doing your bidding, that's childish."

"You always have to have things your way."

"And you don't?" He loosened his grip and she stilled. "Scarlett, this was unexpected. I hurt you and I didn't mean to. Please believe me when I say, I only want what's best."

"Best, how can this be for the best? Neither of us is going to be happy with what you've suggested. You know that as well as I do. I didn't make my decision lightly. I hope you realize that. I am sure that this is the right thing, I haven't been this sure of something since I decided to steal Frank from Sue to save Tara. I knew that would be a heavy load to tout, but I took it up, gladly."

"Have you considered how dangerous having a child could be, I don't want to lose you," he told her, lightly brushing her hair back from her face.

"You won't, I know that there's some risk involved, that's why I discussed this all with Doctor Cross first."

His hand stilled. "You did what?"

"When he came to the house, to check on me before he left. We talked about the risks involved."

"You went to him with this? Before mentioning any of what you had in mind to me, you spoke to Jason Cross?"

There was anger in his tone; she knew then what she had to do. His hatred of Jason Cross was so intense it was nearly all consuming. If she proceeded just right, she could use that anger to her advantage. "I did. He is a very skilled physician. He knows a great deal about child birth."

"He is a self congratulatory bastard. I don't want him anywhere near you."

She smiled a little. "Then it's going to be very difficult for him to continue to treat me if he isn't allowed to be in the same room as me."

"More so than you think, if he continues to encourage you to endanger your health, he wont be on the same plane of existence as you."

His meaning was lost on her. "I don't understand."

"I will break his interfering neck."

"Wouldn't that would ruin all the work you've done rebuilding your reputation here in Charleston, besides, I don't think Doctor Cross is afraid of you."

"That just serves to illustrate my earlier point, he isn't as intelligent as he would have people believe."

"What ever you think of him personally, you can't deny, he is very good at what he does."

"Interfering and rendering judgments without all the facts? I can't argue with that."

"He has all the facts, I told him everything. Well, I omitted certain things to save face, but in all, I was honest when I told him that I had once been sick for a long time. He was planning on contacting Doctor Meade for his opinion."

He stood and turned away from her. "When did you start considering all of this?"

"A long time ago Rhett. Before I even came here, I had thought about us having another child. Then, it was a dream, something that I didn't believe could ever happen."

"Your dream could easily become a nightmare for our family."

A/N, I now personally know more about condoms then I ever thought I would.

The following sources as well as a multitude of others provided invaluable to the writing of this chapter:

American Sex Machines: The Hidden History of Sex at the U.S. Patent Office'' by Hoag Levins (Adams Media, 1996).

A History of Birth Control Clearing Up Misconceptions By Daniel DeNoon

Devices and Desires: A History of Contraceptives in America, Andrea Tone, PhD,

The Condom : An Invention that Predates Modern Times

Article Street dot com


	122. Stolen

Scarlett awoke without provocation; a half remembered sense of déjà vu filled her as she reached her hand out to find Rhett's side of the bed unoccupied. The bed linens were cool, indicating that he left her side some time ago. Mild apprehension washed over her as she remembered the look in his eyes when they'd finished making love after coming upstairs. They were closed to her, devoid of feeling, just as they'd been during their final years in Atlanta.

Once her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, a flicker of motion caught her attention. She found him standing by the window. His back was to her, so she moved in bed, enough to cause the bed frame to creak sharply. Rhett seemed not to take notice, preferring to stare out into the night, his silence more telling than any words he might have spoken to her.

From the bed they recently shared, she watched him pensively. If he were looking for her to be repentant for what she'd done, then he would be waiting for some time to come. She did not regret what she'd done, but he would't want to hear that. In lieu of the truth, she could think of nothing to say that might smooth things over between them. Still, she felt, she should at least try.

Uncertain of his mood, she began with just his name, a soft plea for understanding was in her voice as she whispered softly, "Rhett, please..."

A ragged sigh escaped his lips but he did not turn to face her. In actuality, there was no change in his stance to indicate that he would acknowledge her at all. When at last he did speak, his smooth drawl held no warmth for her. "I didn't mean to wake you." His voice was lifeless and dull.

Guilt began to gnaw at her recently re-discovered conscience. There were many things in her life that she regretted, at least she told herself she should. Marrying Frank, then bullying and shaming him before his friends and neighbors came immediately to mind.

The part of her self that did not embrace sentimentality was swift to interject. If her sister hadn't been able to hang onto her beau, that was her own fault, she rationalized. If Frank really loved Sue, he would never have acted in such a flighty manner and any way, hadn't it all worked out in the end? Certainly, it had, Sue still caught a husband and Tara saved from the likes of Wilkerson and his white trash wife.

Of course, she'd felt sad that Frank died so suddenly but after what Rhett termed a crying jag spent itself, the feelings of guilt she'd suffered the day of his funeral quickly abated and once she'd married Rhett, she'd rarely given Frank Kennedy another thought until Wade and Ella arrived in Charleston from their extended stay at Tara. She deeply regretted that Sue mistreated Ella in an attempt to visit the sins of the mother on the child.

Lying on the ground behind the slave quarters at Twelve Oaks, Scarlett had sworn never to look back. She once told herself that it because the past was unchangeable it wasnt worth revisiting. Perhaps the greater comfort to be found in not looking back was that if she didn't, she would remain closed off from feelings of regret conjured up by memories of past actions.

After being discovered in Ashley's arms at the mill, she knew their lives would change forever. They had, just not quite in the way she'd expected. Never would she have thought that Melly would summon the unflinching ability to cut dead all those who were her dearest friends and kin. Scarlett would always regret being the cause of a feud that would extend through generations to come.

Since coming to Charleston and learning of the history between the Butler's and the Cross's she saw what the yield would be of seeds sown from something so pointless and immaterial as that one, truly innocent, embrace.

That afternoon, while in Ashley's arms, she'd known that there was nothing to be found in his embrace save friendship. He was someone she would always care for even if her caring stemmed out of nothing more than a nostalgic sense of fondness for the golden prince who'd come riding up the front drive at Tara a lifetime ago. Had they been caught in the orchard at Tara after the war or in Aunt Pitty's foyer the afternoon Ashley left to return to battle, then they would have richly deserved the scorn and censure of the old guard.

At the mill, on that April afternoon, they had been innocent of all wrongdoing, but they had many other sins to their joint credit. She lusted over Ashley, allowed him to occupy her waking and dreaming hours. Hating Melly, she had envied her position in Ashley's life and for the love of Scarlett; Melly turned her back on family and cut ties with the friends of her childhood. Even Aunt Pitty had been treated with cool disdain, told that harboring India was tantamount to treason. Melly made it clear that to her there was only one possible scenario, the one in which Scarlett and Ashley were victims of India and Archie's viperous tongues.

Melly went to her grave believing in Scarlett's innocence. Still doggedly defending her only a few weeks before she died, Melanie never wavered in her support of Scarlett. Pitty attempted to heal the breech between them, but was turned away with an ultimatum. So long as India lived under Pitty's roof, Melly would not set so much as one toe on the property. Scarlett had been in Melly's parlor during that exchange, she heard the door close and the sob that caught in Melanie's throat at turning away the woman who'd been as dear as a mother to her and Charles. It hurt her to turn away Pitty, but she did it because Pitty was allowing Scarlett's chief detractor to shelter under her roof.

For all the wrong she had done to that sweet, loving soul, Scarlett knew regret, regret that she would never truly find absolution from.

In the course of her life, she would be haunted by moments that were she able to relive them, she would do differently.

The day Bonnie fell from her pony, her world turned upside down. When she woke from her swoon, she found a world without Bonnie. She affixed the blame for that anguish firmly on Rhett. She wanted him to pay for hurting her so she hurled her pain at Rhett, calling him a murder. She had been hurting so terribly and, in her grief, she lost sight of the fact that he too would be in agony.

Later, she regretted her anguish fueled words. If she could have taken them back, she would have in a heartbeat, but they were spoken in haste and she repented them at leisure.

Now, looking at Rhett's slumped shoulders, she found that once again, she knew what it was to feel regret. Feeling caught between the life they were building and the life she wanted, she had acted. Now she saw that what she'd done would take its toil on him for some time to come. Guilt rose in her heart, but she struggled to force it aside with the pragmatic view that nothing worth having came easily.

"You didn't wake me," she told him softly, "I didn't..."

"It's still early," he said, cutting her off swiftly, "go back to sleep. It's Sunday, the crews won't start work on the house till after eleven."

"I'm not tired."

"You will be tomorrow if you don't get some rest," stated Rhett flatly.

Scarlett inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to gauge her words in her head before speaking. "I know you're upset, but if..."

His shoulders tensed and watching the way his muscles rippled under the fabric of his shirt she was made suddenly aware of the raw strength he possessed. Lately, she forgot the brutality he could be capable of. Watching him now, she remembered all too well what could happen when he was pushed too far.

"I'm angry with myself."

She could not help asking. "And with me?"

"I was weak, but it won't happen again," he said, not denying the validity of her statement.

"It won't need to happen again," she replied, brushing her still kiss bruised lips with the tips of her fingers. "If it was meant to be, if we were meant to have a baby, then it won't need to happen again," she told him. There was a note of triumph in her voice that she could not suppress and he heard it, recognizing it for what it was.

He turned away from the window; the moonlight that illuminated the room bathed his face with a soft, ivory light. There were lines she did not previously remember and the skin around his mouth was drawn tight. She got what she wanted, but it had cost them both dearly.

"I've wondered, many times over the years, what is it like to be you, to be Scarlett O'Hara. The woman who lets nothing and no one stand in the way of what she wants," his lips twisted into a bitter facsimile of a smile, "how does it feel, to always get what you want, no matter the cost?"

What ever she expected him to say next, it hadn't been that. Her temper got the best of her as it so often did and she fired back her retort before she could consider what was behind his angry words. "That isn't fair and you know it. I don't always get what I want."

"The only thing you've ever wanted that you didn't get was Ashley Wilkes, and from what he told me whilen I was in Atlanta, you could have achieved that end once I'd left you, had you still wanted him."

Damn Ashley to hell, she thought. It had never crossed her mind that Ashley would tell Rhett what had transpired at the house in Atlanta. She blanched slightly, but didn't allow herself to dwell, not now when Rhett was acting so cold. It seemed all the progress they'd made was fading away to nothing "But I didn't want him, I knew that I didn't. I wanted you."

"You did want me, even though at the time, I didn't want you. I told you that repeatedly, but you never let it deter you. I was determined to be free of you, but the longer you were here; I came to accept that I could never be free of you. I thought I could resist you but, I couldn't. So, once again, you have what you wanted, me. Don't misconstrue what I'm saying, I love you ... "

Exasperated by the cool, distant way he was treating her she cut him off. "Are you so sure? It doesn't sound that way."

He was at her side, his grip biting, but only just, into the tender flesh of her rounded shoulders. Whether he intended to or not, she could not say for sure, but he shook her a little as if to emphasize his point. "Of course I love you, that's my curse. Even when I know I shouldn't, when I should be on my guard and be wary, I want you. Now that you know how I feel about you, what I predicted would come of that knowledge is at last a reality. You are cruel to those who love you, my pet."

"Maybe that's because some of the people who love me have strange ways of showing it." Inadvertently, he tightened his grip and the work roughened flesh covering his hands chaffed her skin. It hurt, but she would be damned to hell for all eternity before she'd let him know that. "You're acting as though I meant to hurt you."

"That's the heart of the matter, no matter who it hurts, you always go after what you want, you are unrelentingly determined to get whatever it is that you're after even if you have to hurt everyone around you to do it. "

Silence permeated the room as the moon, the source of the only illumination in the room, slid behind a thick bank of clouds.

"You've never hurt anyone in your pursuit of the things you've wanted?" She asked him, her voice sounding as though it was coming to him from a distance far greater than the bare inches that separated them. His hands slid to her forearms, before he removed them to light the candle on the bedside table. Blinkingly owlishly in the sudden brightness, she looked into his eyes, silently imploring him to see things from her side. "I didn't set out to hurt you, I swear to you, I love you."

"You say you love me so convincingly, I believe that you do."

"You should."

Releasing her, he moved away from the bed. "If you do get pregnant... "

She lowered her eyes from his stony gaze, embarrassed as much by the use of the word pregnant as she was by the wiles she had employed earlier in the night to convince him to not employ any of the methods he'd described downstairs in the study.

"Don't turn coward now, look at me."

She raised her head, her green eyes narrowed and wary. "Go on."

"If something happens to you because you are carrying a child that you shouldn't have, how do you think I'll feel at the knowledge that if I could have controlled myself, tragedy would have been averted?"

The idea that something could happen to her was one she was not willing to discuss. "Can't you allow yourself to believe that we'll have a healthy baby and that I'll be just fine?"

"If I allowed myself to believe that, I could lose my resolve Scarlett. What happened in this room tonight will not happen again until we know for certain you can safety carry a baby. If I can't keep myself from not doing what I should we'll go back to separate bedrooms."

Her lips drew into a bloodless, thin line. The breath caught in her chest while pinpricks of light danced before her eyes. Nausea swept through her and for a moment she thought she would be sick there and then. Pain. That was all that was left to her out of the myriad of emotions she'd experience since their reconciliation. Joy was gone, where it had gone and whether it would return, she did not know. Even hope had vanished, chased away by the look of grim determination in Rhett's dark eyes.

"Nothing happened between us that we didn't both want," she finally managed, "it's not as if you compromised me."

"No, I just compromised what little honor I might have once possessed."

"Honor is just a word," she reflected rubbing her temples. "What good has it ever done the likes of you and me? You yourself told me that we weren't gentleman and we have no honor. We aren't the wait and see type, we take what we want, when we want it and we don't wrestle with angels or devils over it. That's not something that you can make me ashamed of."

"How is it you can quote past conversations nearly verbatim, but you couldn't recall what I told you downstairs no more than a few hours ago. I love you, but damn it, you don't care about what anyone else wants. You never have, I doubt you ever will."

"I wanted you and you wanted me, whatever comes after, we'll face it when it comes."

"Because you left us with no other choice," he exploded.

"I don't want to fight about this with you. What happened tonight was not something that should be about what I want or what you want. If we made a baby tonight, do you want to mark its very beginning as something we should regret?" She stretched out her hand and he took it gingerly, settling himself on the bed. "I understand all your doubts, your fears. I know the idea of laying open your heart once more must be awful, but aren't you more afraid of throwing away the kind of life we could have, together. Don't push me away, not now. Not after we've come so far."

He rubbed a hand over his beard shadowed face. "I'm going downstairs, I have some things I want to look over. I don't know how long I'll be so don't bother to wait up."

"Don't be ridiculous. It's the middle of the night."

"It's nearly six, go back to sleep Scarlett. You need your rest."

He snuffed out the candle before pressing a kiss to her forehead. She titled her face up toward his, the invitation in her eyes to stay with her was acknowledged, but he did not linger. The door shut behind him leaving her alone, sitting up in bed, surrounded by the rumbled bedclothes. Once the sound of his heavy tread faded on the stairs she began to sob brokenly.

A/N Sorry for the wait. I have agonized over this chapter for nearly 3 weeks.

Some people have accused me of attempting to turn Scarlett into some sort of supermom. I can only say that I understand Scarlett's feelings toward the children she has and the baby she wants. I myself had my daughter when I was 24. I was not prepared for what motherhood would mean to me and how it would affect my life. I turned 29 last week. In that timespan so many things have happened that while I feel I am emotionally static, I know I have changed a great deal.

Four years in a life shouldn't make such a diffrence, but they do. I know I would be a different parent to a child born to the person I am now. When Cassie was born I was not done being a party queen of NYC, but being a parent means giving up what you want for a greater good. I wish I could have appreciated Cassie more when she was a baby. Instead, I couldn't wait till she got older so I could recliam something of my old life. Now, I don't give a damn about the club scene and trying to score a seat in the tents for fashion week.

Life changes us, it's seeing the changes and responding to them that's the key to growing up.


	123. Opportunities

****

**A/N First, the reports of my demise are greatly...For those of you following this story and This Year's Love, my laptop had a heart attack. I finally decided to use the newer one which had nothing on it. I recreated this chapter and am working on the 20 plus pages that make up the end to This Year's Love. Sorry for the delay. I kept hoping but it doesn't look like it will work anytime soon.**

**This chapter contains adult content. Is it graphic, not overly, so make your own decisions. Yeah that's my claim, its tasteful smut. Jackie Collins makes it look so easy.**

**To answer a reviewer's question, the date is March 11th. The ship capsized three weeks and 3 days ago. I gave her a more inclusive answer than that, so if anyone wants the day by day break down PM me. **

**I know I know, 3 weeks and 3 days in oh, 2 years. No need to tease me about it, Dani does all the time.**

**-Corrin**

**For Laura, Alicia and Dani...because they read the same bits over and over and still have the patience to look again, I couldn't do it without you guys, and I wouldn't want to.**

Once in his study, Rhett drained the glass of brandy that he'd only toyed with earlier in the evening. Scarlett's nearly untouched glass followed. It took several minutes for the effects to take hold, but then the liquid warmth of the alcohol began to spread through his body, rejuvenating him.

His cigar case was on his bedside table, but he could not go back upstairs and face her. Pacing the study like a caged panther, he cursed softly. She had gotten what she wanted and he had given it to her. When he'd left her upstairs she radiated a smug confidence that made him want to slap her or alternately, build a new religion around her so that others could venerate her as a living goddess.

She could not understand that his reluctance stemmed from wanting what was best for her and the desire to take her to some of the places he had visited over the years. The year before their initial meeting at Twelve Oaks, he had visited Bengal at the invitation of the Viceroy of India, a friend of a close acquaintance, Henry Temple.

It had been a savage, wild place filled with ancient lore and much of daily life was dictated by the worship of deities. In India on the whole, goddess worship was not uncommon. Goddesses featured prominently in the stories of the natives. One night, wishing to display some of the native culture, his host had a troop of native dancers perform for his guests

_One of the viceroy's advisors, sitting near Rhett, was well versed in the fables of the native people. In a quiet, unobtrusive undertone, he explained to those around him the story behind each dance. Rhett had listened with half his attention while quietly discussing a prospective business proposition with a man he knew through Temple. _

_Throughout the dances, under the music of sitars, pipes and drums, a low buzz of conversation could be heard. Many of the men present had come to conduct business of varying natures. He had been consulting numbers on a slip of paper when the various conversations suddenly tapered off into silence. Curious as to what could silence the assembly, Rhett glanced up. It was nearly a half hour before conversation began again._

_A well-formed female dancer, painted black and attired in a tiger skin moved among other dancers who were dressed as warriors. As she moved sinuously before them, the interpreter explained that she was __Kali, a goddess associated with death but who in fact stood for time and change. _

_As the dance continued, the goddess defeated her enemies on the battlefield but drunk on the blood of the slain, began to lose control. The musicians accompanying the dances began to pound out a frantic beat that seemed to force Rhett's heart to beat in tandem. The dancer moved faster and faster, her limbs flailing as she leapt higher and higher, each time her feet met the floor she would arch her body back further and further. Then, suddenly, the music of the drums faded to be replaced by a single pipe. The dancer portraying Kali froze her hands reaching toward the heavens._

_To calm her and to protect the stability of the world, the interpreter continued, Shiva, the supreme deity, was sent to the battlefield as an infant, crying aloud. A wooden instrument began to mimic the cries of a newborn. Seeing the child's distress, Kali ceased her dancing to take care of the helpless infant. She picks him up, kisses his head, and proceeds to tend to the infant._

_The savage goddess's chaotic dance had ended because of a child. _

If the situation weren't so serious, it would be funny. Irony at it's most potent. Scarlett, who once had been motivated by the pursuit of wealth, security and Ashley Wilkes had ceased her frantic searching. The woman who refused to bear him any more children, the woman who turned him from her bed to win favor with another man, she had vanished. Last night Scarlett seduced him, using all her wiles in hopes of conceiving a child.

He had always been sure of his supremacy over her when they were in bed. If he had wanted to, he knew that he could have physically convinced her to take back his banishment, but he hated her and pitied her that afternoon. Neither emotion was conducive toward inspiring demonstrations of love.

Last night, she confronted him about whether or not he'd been aware that he could have prevented them having children. At the time, he wanted her to carry a child for a multitude of reasons, now he didn't want a child for one simple reason, he was afraid of losing her. His hatred of Ashley Wilkes did not blind him to the other man's suffering. The pain that stemmed from the loss of Melanie was etched on his face and reflected in his dull, lifeless eyes.

Ashley Wilkes buried his soul with his wife and their unborn child. From that loss, he'd never fully recover. Ashley kissing Scarlett in the Atlanta House was motivated less by his feelings of lust toward Scarlett and more by the fact that in her he saw a kindred sprit. Rhett came to that conclusion on the train ride home to Charleston. To pursue Scarlett at this juncture in his life, Ashley Wilkes had a reason beyond simple lust or even a desire for familiarity.

In Scarlett, he would have a wife who would not object to his dwelling on the wife that preceded her. Scarlett came late to the cult of Melanie Wilkes and like so many late converts, she worshipped with a fervor that did not allow occlusion of the focus of her adoration. She would never object to coming second to Melanie. It would seem right to her that she could never be as important to Ashley as Melly was, in her mind Ashley never hold as high a place in her regard as Melanie.

Melanie Wilkes, thinking about her led him to a dark place, a place where he doubted his own ability to recover from the loss of Scarlett. To think about Scarlett laid out in a casket, to have to listen to the murmured condolences of his friends and family, to be left with her children wondering why pain was a constant companion to their family. He could not bear it, not when he possessed the ability to circumvent such a tragedy.

_Belle had been smug with a touch of amusement in her gold flecked eyes when he'd asked her to supply him with preventatives. _

_"A conditional surrender?" She asked coyly._

_"Leave it alone Belle", he warned softly, his face dark and__ indecipherable__._

_"Now honey, you just ask me for illegal and morally bankrupt items and I can't help but wonder aloud why you'd need 'em, especially if you're on the straight and narrow path."_

_"Try harder not to wonder."_

_"Curiosity may have killed the cat," she threw back her drink in a neat flick of her wrist before laughing loudly, "but satisfaction from what it learned brought that pussycat right back."_

_"Perhaps that cat had all of its nine lives intact, you don't."_

_"Touchy, touchy," she said, patting her hair lightly. One of her girls, seeing the madam use one of her prearranged signals, hurried over. She leaned down toward Belle who whispered something in the buxom brunette's ear. The girl glanced at Rhett before Belle pinched her forearm. "Get going, my guest doesn't have all night."_

_"That was less than subtle."_

_"No less subtle then waltzing into my place after such a long time out of it."_

He'd fully meant to use the preventatives when making love to Scarlett until she was well again. Before he'd acquired them, they'd made love on the beach and twice at his mother's house, but he fervently hoped that neither time resulted in a child.

When they had gone upstairs the night before, he never thought that she would be able to shake him from his resolve. With the touch of her lips against his throat, the way she drew him close, stroking his back with the tips of her oval nails; he'd been unable to resist such a blatant invitation. While struggling to deny his need for her, she'd spoken words that he never thought he'd hear from her, words richly accented with desire. Only now, upon reflection, could he hear the desperation below the desire. Last night, he lost his head and in doing so he now stood to lose everything.

Rhett poured another glass of brandy. As he raised the glass to his lips, the smell of the dark liqueur wafted into his nostrils. It was a smell that he associated with the most painful times of his life. With an audible groan, he flung the glass down into the fireplace. Shards of glass sprayed back and he felt a sting of pain where glass had struck his check. Every time things had gone wrong, he'd drown himself in alcohol. No more. He was stronger than the summoning siren song of the decanters on the table.

XXXXXXXXXX

Scarlett rolled onto her side, drawing the covers over her head to block out the fractured beams of sunlight that poured through the slats in the shutters. She judged the time to be sometime after seven, maybe even as late as eight a.m. Rhett never came back to bed. After waiting for a while, she'd fallen back to sleep.

After he left, hating herself for the weakness but unable to stop herself, she cried. The short bout of tears helped her to release some of the anxiety she felt after their early morning argument. Once she bought her turbulent emotions under control, she sat grimly trying to reason with her conscience. Rhett was a man of considerable experience, if he could be seduced with kisses and caresses that was no fault of hers. He could have pushed her away and left their bed, he could have insisted on using the distasteful things he'd acquired from that blousy, trashy, dyed haired blight on her existence.

Belle Watling! The very thought of her made Scarlett clench her hands into fists that drove her nails into her palms. That he'd gone to Belle, oh but that infuriated her. Had they sat discussing her as they had in the past? Scarlett knew for a fact that they'd discussed her because Rhett had once taunted her with that knowledge. She had been angry that he'd left his horse out in front of Belle's saloon, shaming her before the town. Intending to give him a piece of her mind, she had hurled some insults about Belle in his dark, bland face.

_With a smirk, Rhett told her "You know, Belle restrains herself from making comments about you, why don't you consider returning the courtesy."_

_"Do you talk about me with that trashy...?" The amusement that flared in his dark eyes silenced her. He was enjoying her anger, thought it humorous that she could be so easily riled._

_"Constantly," he taunted coldly, "Don't you know Scarlett, you're constantly on my mind. You're all that I think about. What else could I talk about but you?"_

He had put the truth in her hands, but she'd been unable to see his words as anything other than cruel barbs.

_"What you talk about with your mistress is no concern of mine," spat Scarlett, pivoting on her toe, wanting nothing more that to be magically in the confines of her bedroom indulging in the comfort that could be found in the bottom of the bottle of brandy that was hidden in her closet._

_He spoke to her back, his tone light, but the intent behind his words evident. He wanted to wound her before she fled. "You're quite right my dear, it isn't. Although, if you ever really want to know, you only have to ask. Surely you know by now, I can deny you nothing."_

_Whirling back, she faced him, her color high and her eyes flaming with dislike "I've never despised anyone as much as you. You can go to the devil for all I care and take Belle Watling with you for company." She left the room, her shoulders squared and her head held high. When she reached the grand staircase, she picked up her pace, taking them as quickly as she could._

_But, no matter how quickly she moved she could not escape his mocking laughter as it followed her up the stairs._

Anger was rising in her heart coupled with the embarrassment of knowing that she nearly always let her temper get the better of her in every argument with Rhett. Knowing her as he did he was always able to tear the stopper off her gunpowder temper.

No, don't think about that, she told herself; don't think about Belle Watling or Atlanta or any of the horrible things that had passed between them over the years. Better to think about last night.

_He had carried her upstairs. With great care, he settled her on the bed. Her fingers curled into the front of his shirt and she drew him forward, tipping her head back. _

_"Don't be angry," she whispered, "I only..."_

xxxxxxxxxx

Rhett scrubbed at the sketch of the new stables, erasing a large area of the drawing. Scarlett would be awake soon. Lying in bed, looking at him with her expressive, haunting eyes. Looking at him just as she had last night.

_She asked him not to be angry. She meant to continue but he pressed his fingers to her lips, intending to silence her. She kissed the tips of his fingers softly, grazing the skin a little with her teeth. He searched her eyes, dark ebony meeting bright emeralds that seduced without even being aware of their potency. _

_I love you, they told him and he allowed himself to believe; to believe in her and her love for him. Rhett had never expected to love a woman the way he loved her. He had never wanted to. Love could destroy a man and he refused to surrender his fate into someone else's hands._

_Over the last month he had come to realize with a certainty that had long eluded him, she was his fate. Together, they were more than they could ever be apart. _

_He allowed her to pull him down by his shirtfront. Down into the abyss._

XXXXXXXXXX

Gritting her teeth, she reached out to take up her cane from where she usually leaned it against the bedside table, but it wasn't there. She must have left it downstairs last night.

Damned nuisance, she thought irritably, the sooner she stopped depending on it, the better in her opinion. She had two choices, wait in bed for Rhett or attempt to manage without the cane. Her hip still ached as did her knee but the pain in her joints was slowly abating just as Doctor Cross has predicted.

Before leaving on his trip, the doctor had advanced the theory that she might have sprained her knee when the boat capsized. Thinking back on the events of the afternoon, she remembered thrashing in the water, trying to kick free of the bulky weight of her skirts and petticoats before Rhett had cut her loose.

He had also cut the strings of her corset. His large hands were rough under her basque as he ripped the corset opened so she could breathe. The intimate feeling of his hands on her body embarrassed her at the time; it had been years since he'd touched her in anything except anger or polite formality. She laughed softly, how utterly ridiculous, in the middle of nearly drowning she'd been so aware of the way his hands felt on he body.

In the past, she had never found intimacy in marriage to be very important, not even with Rhett. In the beginning, it had been a pleasant distraction, but when they'd stopped sharing a bed, she had been able to do without it. Regretted the loss of company and comfort he brought to their bed, but the actual physical act of love? She was able to adjust.

Now though, after having gone from spending years in an empty bed to revisiting every moment they'd ever spent in bed, she wondered yet again how he would have reacted if she had apologized the day she'd barred him from her room. She suspected she knew now how he might have rewarded such an admission and the very thought brought another flood of warmth to her cheeks.

Doctor Cross predicted it would be months before she fully recovered, but she knew he was reluctant to make a diagnosis that encouraged her toward activities that might cause her to injure herself again. Cleary he preferred to error on the side of caution.

How queer that Rhett and Doctor Cross should have that in common. Rhett wanted to wait; better safe than sorry had been his opinion.

But she couldn't wait. Once they were upstairs and he'd placed her on the bed. It hadn't been just the idea of a baby that had motivated her. She wanted him, needed his skin against hers, needed his hands running down her body making her feel like she was the only woman to ever feel so wanted, so cherished. After their argument downstairs she couldn't let them go to bed out of harmony.

_"Touch me," she whispered, "I need to know you love me."_

_He moved toward her, his fingers gently stroking her cheek before they slid to the back of her head. "I do love you, you drive me insane, but I love you, I always will."_

_"Don't tell me," she demanded impatiently, "show me."_

_He moved closer, lowering his head, his breath warm against her face. Reaching up, she caressed the side of his face, running her fingers across his lips. _

_The hand resting next to her on the bed trembled briefly. "God help me," he whispered, "I love you so much."_

_It took him only a minute to strip off his shirt and join her in bed. Sliding his hands down her body, he drew her against the hard length of his body. His mouth was on hers, firm and demanding. A moan escaped her lips and she could feel him chuckle a little, proud at the power he held over her. _

_But she knew that he wanted her just as she wanted him. Drawing back from him she traced her hands over the planes of his chest, enjoying the way his muscles grew taut under her wandering hands._

_The things he did to her, she enjoyed beyond reckoning. Things she enjoyed so much that she could scarcely think about them without blushing. Would he enjoy those things too?_

_Scarlett's eyes were dark now, her pupils dilating slightly while a sudden rush of brash courage raced through her veins. Resting her palms against his chest, she firmly exerted pressure until it was clear that she wanted him on his back._

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Another piece of crumpled paper fell to the floor. No matter how he tried to focus on the work before him, his thoughts were on Scarlett and what happened the night before. He had been a fool to think he could contain himself to kissing her and not go any further.

_Obliging her unspoken request he lay on his back. When she made no move to touch him, he allowed his eyes to close for a moment as some of the tension he'd carried after their fight dissipated_

_When he felt her mouth pressing kisses down his jaw, he smiled a little. She was still shy when they were in bed together; with time he hoped that she would come to ... what came next robbed him of the ability to reason._

Swearing softly, Rhett picked up the account book containing Scarlett's purchases for the Landing. Though he knew her arithmetic would be perfect, he thought that skimming though the columns of numbers would be cathartic. He never thought her capable of passion that was not a result of things he did to her. It was his own fault for being so shortsighted.

_Her mouth continued down his throat until she came to his chest. He assumed she would stop, but then she lightly nipped him, grazing his nipple lightly with her teeth._

_"Scarlett," he managed, his voice sounding hoarse even to his own ears._

_"Shh," she whispered, her breath chilled the damp warmth left by her mouth and tongue, "I want you to know how I feel." Her mouth moved across his chest, till her lips began to caress the flat expanse of his stomach._

_His breathing was harsh as he struggled to maintain control over his body's responses. With her naïve caresses she was managing to arouse him more than any woman he'd ever been with. If he let her continue, he would lose the control that he needed to maintain._

_Threading his hands in her hair, he gently lifted her head from his stomach. _

_"Did I do something wrong," she asked hesitantly. When he said nothing, she pushed herself off of him. To his dismay, tears began to pool in her eyes before sliding slowly down her cheeks. She had tried to please him and took his stopping her as a sign that what she tried to do was not appreciated._

_"Scarlett," he said quietly, "look at me."_

_She obliged his request without hesitation, lifting her chin so that she could meet his intent gaze. In her face he saw a vulnerability that evoked a need to comfort her. Sitting up, her pulled her against his chest._

_"I don't want you to think that I stopped you because I didn't enjoy what you were doing, I was, very much. I don't want you to do more than you're comfortable with."_

_"I wouldn't do anything that made me uncomfortable."_

_"Good."_

_They sat silently, each regarding the other. She smiled up at him, the dimple in her cheek deepening and without thinking, he bent forward to press his lips to that slight indentation in her smooth pale flesh._

_She did not move, didn't make a sound as his lips moved to her jaw then to her throat, just above her racing pulse. Then his mouth was on hers once more._

_Against his lips she murmured something frantically as he traced the outline of her lips. His name. Roughly, he pushed her nightgown from her shoulders and began to alternately kiss and stroke her exposed skin._

_She wound her arms around his neck, pressing her fabric clad breasts against his chest. When his clever fingers quickly jerked loose the strings holding her nightgown's bodice closed and lowered his dark head to her breast. With a strangled cry, she raked her nails down his back, her breath coming in short, frantic pants of excitement_

_"Rhett," she cried out, demanding more and he knew he could refuse her nothing even at the cost of his own sanity._

XXXXXXX

Carefully, she slid her legs over the side of the bed, lowering her feet to the floor. The throbbing ache in her knee was a reminded not to push herself to hard. Catching hold of the post at the corner of the bed, she grimaced lightly. The throbbing ache was not receding as she'd hoped it would. With the cane she was able to distribute her weight so that most of it was on her right side. Now, trying to keep her balance and not fall was taking a great deal of her concentration.

Taking a step at a time, she managed to reach one of the chairs situated in front of the fireplace. The aching throb was spreading, her body felt so heavy, clumsy even. How she hated feeling helpless and weak, dependent on others. It made her feel like she was inhabiting a stranger's body.

Drawing on a reserve of strength, she moved forward. Her clothes were hanging in the wardrobe; it stood taunting her just a few feet away. There was a cotton day dress that she could wear, it buttoned up the bodice and she felt sure she could manage if she took her time. Once dressed, she would settle in one of the chairs and wait to see if Rhett came up to check on her. By the time he came, she would have an opportunity to rest a little and she could conceal how much it had taken to get dressed unaided. If he saw that she was becoming able to manage again on her own, it might assuage some of his guilt at the events of the night before.

When he began to take off her nightgown, she knew that he was losing his battle with himself. Overcoming her usual reluctance, she allowed herself the freedom to take control of the situation.

_"Rhett," she loosed her hold on his neck and began to run her hands through his thick black hair. Suddenly, she jerked his head up. With a look of surprise in his dark eyes, he lifted his head._

_"Did I..." he began, but she did not allow him to finish, she kissed him instead, silencing his query. She opened her mouth to him, touching her tongue gently to his bottom lip before exploring further. When he kissed her back, she did not shy away, she allowed him to kiss her hard and deep and instead of resisting she met his kisses with her own._

_She arched her back, breaking the kiss to better situate herself on his lap. Moving carefully, she twined her hands around his neck again and rocked back and forth slowly in an attempt to make herself more comfortable. Though she was not as experienced as Rhett, she knew that what she was doing was arousing him._

_Urged on by a voice in her head that encouraged her daring, she lowered her hands to his trousers, fumbling for a moment with the buttons._

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Grasping the banister to go upstairs and check on Scarlett, Rhett paused in contemplation of his hands. Last night when she attempted to undress him, he'd grabbed her. His big hands came down to grasp her delicate wrists.

She shook her head, her dark hair tumbling forward to veil her breasts. The contrast of her coal black hair against her soft pale skin made it difficult to look her in the eye. "We don't have to..," she trailed off, blushing lightly, "I just want to touch you, the way you do me, that's not wrong, is it?"

He closed his eyes briefly, before releasing her hands.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

He grabbed her briefly before relenting and releasing her hands. His earlier reluctance seemed to dissipate. Standing up, he removed his few remaining articles of clothing before her, smiling at her unabashed interest.

_"The candles?" He asked._

_"Leave them, just come back to bed," she invited softly._

_Once they were beneath the covers they began exploring each other's bodies as if they were newlyweds. Scarlett had gone to him with only a moment's hesitation, if she lost her nerve, then Rhett would win and there would be no child. The carriage would arrive and she would have no one to lie in it. _

Swallowing a small cry as she took a step forward, nearly tripping over something. Glancing down, she saw her chemise on the floor. He might be angry with her, but when she did give him a child, he would see that what she had done wasn't something to rue, but rather, something to celebrate. If she had allowed Rhett his way, they would never have another child.

No, she thought, she couldn't bear it. Couldn't bear another empty carriage hidden away from sight because of painful longings for things to be different. Not when she finally knew that the time was right to try. How she acted last night even shocked her a little in the glaring light of day but how could she have held anything back, she couldn't, not when trying to convince him to make love to her.

She initially came to motherhood little more than a child herself. Only a few years out of the schoolroom, she had been ill prepared to become a mother. Coupled with widowhood, it was surprising that she had managed to not completely alienate her son. Ella, with Ella she had been angry. Angry at the Frank for taking her money and liberty away, angry at the Yankees for making her fear for her family's safety, even angry at herself for being unable to love her children and husband like a woman should.

She hadn't loved Rhett when they were first married, but that didn't matter. It didn't matter how they'd started, it mattered where they were now.

_She rained kisses on his muscular chest, giggling a little when his hand curved over her lower back. At first, she was true to her word, touching her fingertips to his flesh, sliding her hands through the dark hair on his chest, stoking her hands across his muscular shoulders before running her hands down his powerful arms. She had never considered that a man's body could be so beautiful but lying there with his eyes closed, unaware of her scrutiny she drank him in._

_When she began to use her tongue and mouth on his stomach he stirred. With a low, throaty growl he wrapped his hands around her tiny waist, rolling her over till she lay on top of him._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It had been a moment of madness. She had been lying on top of him, writhing wildly as he used his hands to bring her to a state of ecstasy.

_"You want me," she observed a note of triumph in her liquid drawl._

_"If I didn't want you it would be because I were dead," he admitted before taking her lips in a kiss that's urgency surprised even him. _

_She took his face between her palms, and dragged his lips from hers. "Now, Rhett, please I want you so much, I need you, now."_

_He struggled to dislodge her, to do what needed to be done before they could make love but she tightened her grasp around his neck, leaning forward till her soft lips caressed his ear. "Don't you want me?" She whispered plaintively before taking his earlobe between her teeth, nipping it gently._

_"For the love of God, yes I want you," he groaned, his hands sweeping down her back, curving possessively around her hips, he pulled he hard against him. Stoking her back, he told her in a gentle voice, "There's something I have to do first."_

_"You coward," she taunted softly, "if you'd like, I could leave so you can be alone with the angel on your shoulder."_

_"Scarlett..."_

_"You are a coward, you are so afraid..." His eyes narrowed and she continued, reckless in her desperation, "That's right, I said it, afraid. Poor Rhett, so determined to do the right thing, I hardly recognize you._

_He looked into he face and saw her opinion of him in her feline eyes. The smirk that curved her swollen lips was what drove him in the end, she had ignited a spark of predatory male pride with her cool disdain and he was powerless to extinguish it._

Before he could stop it, before he could force himself to ignore her taunts or accept them for what they were, words meant to enrage him so that he'd lose sight of his original intentions, he took her. To show her...he could not face her yet so he sat on a step, his head in his hands, as he tried to recall what it was he had hoped to accomplish by taking her so brutally.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Her legs trembled beneath her. Leaning against the wardrobe, she rested her forehead against the cool wood.

She had goaded him, forced him to do what she wanted. To her, the means never mattered; it was what she achieved in the end that mattered. He was angry because she was able to make him do something that he'd had no expectations of doing. But in time...in time he'd come to see things from her point of view, he just had to.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_He came into her hard, wanting to show her that he was in control, that her words had no power to influence him. He would do what he haddone when they were first married; withdraw from her before he finished. She might think that she'd gotten the better of him, but she would be wrong._

_He thought to shock her, to startle her so that she would reconsider in the future such outlandish behavior, but she surprised him. She was warm, soft, eager for him. She moaned when he rolled her onto her back, thrusting harder into her until she screamed his name, urging him on._

_She wrapped herself around his torso, struggling to bring herself closer, if that were possible, until her legs were wrapped around his thighs pulling him deeper into her heaving body._

_Knowing that he was preparing to draw back at any moment, knowing now what his face looked like when he was preparing to marshal the strength to stop himself, she did what she had to in order to stop him._

_Her hands were on his shoulders, kneading them, digging deep into his flesh, so deep that she was sure she left bruises on his tanned skin._

_When he bit the side of her slim throat, she cried out, bucking upward, nearly heaving him off her body. With a grip that was none too gentle, she brought his mouth to hers. The feeling of his weight, pinning her down was heady as his tongue delved deeper and deeper, thrusting into her mouth._

_Then it was over. He climaxed, his big body shaking, signifying his release. Under her hands, she felt his shoulders tense and briefly, she knew a moment of triumph over her long time adversary._

She loved him as much as she had ever loved anyone, but love and hate were two sides to the same coin. She hated that he tried to deny her something they both wanted and needed. For the first time, she had gotten the upper hand and that was ever bit as exhilarating as what they had done last night.

_The last candle still aflame gutted, leaving behind the smell of tallow. In the darkness, she felt him roll away. Her body felt suddenly bereft at the loss of his bulk. She reached out to him only to have her gesture rebuffed._

_"Damn you to hell," he muttered in the darkness._

_"At least I won't be alone," she whispered, turning her head into her pillow._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Her head swam when she moved away from the wardrobe. Her hip felt as though a dull knife was scraping the bone. Trying to dress herself would have to wait, what she needed to do was lie down for a little while or baring the ability to reach the bed, she needed to sit down for a few minutes before trying to reach the bed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He'd blamed her, damned her last night when she'd reached out, only wanting him to hold her.

His hand rested on the knob to their bedroom. He was angry with her, but he was not willing to hold onto his anger. It would do neither of them any good.

With that in mind, he opened the door.

It took a few seconds for it to register that she was gone. Their bed was empty. The covers were flung back, but the bed was unoccupied. His heart in his throat, he moved into the room, taking several steps before he saw her lying on the floor.


	124. Sacrifices

A/N Someone wrote to me last week and asked, "Where do you get your ideas?" I can only reply with ideas are born from conversations that usually start out just like this...

****

Corn: ella should ask for the parrots lol  
Dani: **HA  
Corn: ****would you laugh  
Dani: ****i would  
Dani: I ****totally would****  
Corn: ****Parrot with the wind ****  
****Dani: ****i would so read this**

**If you like my story, thank Dani. She is my muse, my best friend and in 30 days... my cowl wearing sidekick. Without her I would cry more than I laugh. **

Spring's bounty adorned the gardens of Charleston. Mother Nature had once again worked her magic; the mild temperate winter had faded away, displaced by a bold and colorful display of springtime favorites. In the front yard of Miss Eleanor's house pink and white azaleas bordered the brick pathway leading to the front door attracting early butterflies and fat lazy bumblebees. Narcissus, pansies, and lilies of the valley were splashes of color against the emerald expanse of lawn that could not help but please the eye of even the most causal observer.

From her vantage point on the piazza, Scarlett looked out, unable to appreciate the lush beauty of spring in Charleston. On the small table beside her chair a spray of camellias sat, discarded by their intended recipient. In the back yard of the house they were legion, painting the garden in a sunburst array of colors. Eleanor told her when they'd first begun to bloom that Rhett had brought them over from the Landing to replace the ones she'd left behind at their previous home.

At the time, listening to his mother speak, Scarlett remembered finding it hard to reconcile the Rhett she'd known verse the man who was seemingly obsessed with rebuilding his family's fortunes. The Rhett she'd known had lived out of his suite at the National, he'd taken no real interest when she'd been building their home...that thought had resulted in a guilty flush. It hadn't been their home, that's why he didn't care.

In her hair, on the night of the Saint Cecilia ball, she'd worn camellias and tube roses. Rhett had chosen them for her. Thinking that he'd chosen them out of spite, to replace the jeweled combs she would have preferred, she likened the glossy blooms to globs of fat but in retrospect, she knew he'd chosen them with care because they were something precious to him just as she was.

Trailing her finger down the waxy petals, she felt a sudden urge to hurl the flowers over the piazza's rail. In her minds eye she could picture the flowers lying on the green grass. Rhett would see them when he went outside for a cigar and maybe she wanted him to. Wanted him to see that she could not and would not be mollified by sweet gestures. The last six days she had been kept a prisoner in her mother in law's home, no matter how well treated she was treated, it paled in comparison to liberty.

Furtively, she glanced toward the door leading to the upstairs hall. It had only been a half hour since Rhett had come to check on her. Over the last few days he had fallen into a fairly dependable pattern, so dependable that she was certain it would be another half of an hour before he came to check on her. Curving her hand around that handle of her cane, she licked her lips nervously. Just five minutes on her feet, unsupported, would go a long way toward reassuring her.

Since her fall, Rhett had treated her like a caged bird. Something to be petted and admired, but kept captive, secluded from the world. Carefully, she began to ease herself from her chair. Just as she was about to come to her feet, a firm and heavy hand came down, gently pinning her in her chair. Her body stiffened at his touch.

Heaving a sigh, she reluctantly allowed him to take the cane from her grasp. Folding her hands in her lap, she pursed her lips angrily. "You are being ridiculous," commented Scarlett, looking out across the yard of the house on the battery with unseeing eyes. "Just how long do you think you can continue to wrap me in cotton wool?" she taunted softly, rephrasing earlier remarks he'd made about her treatment of Wade, "I've been thinking Rhett, about the way you've been treating me and I've come to a very important conclusion."

"Have you now?" Leaning against the railing in front of her, Rhett spread his hands before him, "Pray continue Mrs. Butler, and to what conclusion have you come?"

Her eyes glittered as she took in his nonchalant pose, the curl of his generous lips that boarded on insolent; he thought that he could force her to succumb, that he could bend her to his will, no more she thought with a hot rush of pride and anger, no more. "I am not a china doll," she said, her jaw tightening, "I am perfectly fine."

One dark brow lifted slightly before he shrugged elegantly. "I found you on the floor of our bedroom, I would think that would suggest otherwise."

Her expression became remote. "I was a little lightheaded. I admit that I should have waited for you to bring my cane up, but now you are treating me like an invalid and encouraging everyone else in this house to do the same. Which, according to Doctor Bastin, I am most certainly not."

"My dear, you have introduced me to a decidedly unpleasant sensation, I am actually anticipating the return of Jason Cross. At least you pretend to consider following that arrogant bastard's advice. If you recall, Doctor Bastin said you fainted from exhaustion and overwrought nerves. He suggested rest, so rest you shalll."

She was silent for several minutes and he thought that he might have convinced her but the cool, direct tone she delivered her ultimatum in told him otherwise. "If you continue to treat me as you have, I will burn this house down to the ground just to be free of it."

His lips curved into a reluctantly admiring smile. "Now, I ask you, what kind of guest burns down her hostess's home?"

"The kind that has been held a virtual prisoner in it," Scarlett suggested blandly.

Checking his pocket watch, Rhett studied her in amused silence for a very long moment; so long that Scarlett diverted her attention from his searching dark eyes and carefully blank face.

Her blatant display of disinterest caused a lazy, white smile to appear on his face. Drawing out his cigar case, Rhett withdrew a cheroot. "Do you mind?" he asked politely.

Crossing her arms over her chest defensively, Scarlett grimaced. "Yes! Yes I do mind, so much so that I would prefer you smoke that downstairs."

He bowed slightly, "As you wish Mrs. Butler."

Before he could take a step, she reached out to him, gesturing for him to come closer. He bent forward, and she cupped her hand over his check. "I just...I just feel like this is all coming apart as quickly as it came together," she whispered, her voice betraying her turbulent heart, "you've barely spoken to me since we came back." She closed her eyes against the sting of tears she refused to shed. When they opened again, they sparkled with unshed tears, tears that she blinked back swiftly.

Drawing back from her light caress, he raked a hand through his hair. "I don't know what you mean."

She opened her mouth to deliver a stinging rebuke at him for being so deliberately obtuse when he caught her hands and pulled her to her feet. Lacing his arms around her waist, he kissed her before she could speak.

Seductively, he teased her lips with his in an attempt to make her offer herself to him, wanting to help her lose herself for a few stolen moments. But just as she would not allow her tears to fall, she would not let him sweep her away from her stance on her ability to return to normality. With a cry, she began to struggle against him, turning her head to break contact between his lips and hers. Her refusal only inspired him to redouble his efforts to seduce her with his hands and mouth.

Sliding his hands up her back, he crushed her to his chest, taking her lips in a kiss that had behind it the need to make her understand that he only wanted to protect her from harm. Her lips slowly softened beneath his fierce onslaught, parting gradually to allow him further access to the inner warmth of her mouth. Sensing her surrender to desire, Rhett threaded his hand in her hair, his fingers working at the pins that held her upswept locks in place. "Tell me to stop," he murmured into her mouth, daring her to try and put an end to the passion that threatened to sweep them both away.

But, when he felt her tears against his face, he broke off their kiss, allowing her to lean away from him. Withdrawing his hand from her hair, he cupped it over her smooth cheek, brushing away tears with his thumb. "Don't cry. I can never stand to see you cry, not when you mean it," he amended, smiling wanly.

"Then stop treating me as though I'm on death's doorstep," she whispered fiercely.

"I can't," he confided, gathering her close again so that her head rested over his heart. "Please, I've hurt you so badly," he buried his face in her hair, "for the love of God, don't let me hurt you, not again," he whispered, but she knew his words were not spoken for her benefit.

She could feel his big, solid body trembling with the emotions that raged inside him. A clear, but radical thought began to emerge, he thought that she'd fainted because of him? The idea was preposterous, someone as clever as Rhett surely couldn't think such a thing. But then again, Mammy had always said that men could take silly ideas into their heads and cling to them despite all evidence contradicting their beliefs.

"Rhett, darling, listen to me," she said, managing to speak in a soft, relatively normal voice, "I know you want what's best for our family, so do I." There was a gift she could offer, one that was selfless, one that might not only free him from worry, but would turn the key in her prison's cell. Could a sacrifice be selfless if the person making the sacrifice reaped benefits too? She didn't know and in the end, what did it matter. Love required sacrifices she was coming to learn. Not just financial and physical, but the surrendering of dreams and hopes for the future.

"Scarlett?"

"If you want to wait," she swallowed against the disappointment that was rising in her chest, choking her words until they stilled on her tongue.

"Sweetheart, Let's get you back to bed..."

"NO! Let me say this now, before I reconsider. We'll wait. God knows I don't want to but, I'll go along with your wishes, for a while," she amended, "but when Doctor Cross agrees that I'm well again, then I want you to consider doing for me what I just did for you. I want you to think about what it is that I want."

He tipped her chin up to read the sincerity in her steady gaze. "You know what that will mean, we'll have to be careful, at least for the time being. I meant what I said at the Landing, I will never allow that to happen again."

Eager to conclude discussing something that hurt her so deeply, she nodded. "Yes, I know."

Rhett heard the he voice break, what was left of his conscience tore at his heart, but his mind was calm. She had acquiesced and for that he wanted to reward her, there was the surprise he'd been saving for her, intending to show her sometime next week, but the desire to put a smile back on her face won out.

Kissing her lightly on the cheek, he smiled. "Come inside, I'll send Penny up. We are going out."

"What, where?" she asked.

"Not far, just around the corner. I have to meet with a business associate."

"Oh," her face fell slightly, "It isn't that I don't want to go out, but that wasn't quite what I thought you had in mind."

He pinched her chin gently. "Come along, I think you'll like the house and its mistress. She is very charming," he added, smiling faintly, "I've no doubts that it won't be long before she is one of the most renowned hostesses in Charleston."

She gave him a sideways glance, her lips twisted in a mock pout. "You sound very fond of this woman, should I be jealous."

"You should be," he agreed solemnly, placing a kiss on her lips that took the seriousness from his words.

"Hmph," she sniffed deprecatingly, 'I don't see myself enjoying spending the afternoon with someone you so obviously admire, unless, is she Miss Julia's age?"

"She is not. Besides, don't be so swift to pass judgment, perhaps you could study her and attempt to emulate her."

"Why you no good varmint," she scoffed before snapping her fingers against his chest, "Fiddle dee dee Rhett Butler, perhaps this paragon of virtue would be better off observing me."

"My dear, Charleston, and I suspect the world at large, is only big enough to contain one Scarlett O'Hara Butler."

She tilted her head down before shyly peering up through he thick lashes. "Is that your polite way of saying you'd like me to change," she said in a deceptively sweet drawl, "are you suggesting you would you like me to be more demure? I suppose I could pass my days fanning myself on the front porch while learning to say 'Why darling, that's the most cleverest thing I've ever heard a body say in my entire life.' "

He threw back his head, laughing appreciatively. "If you could learn to say that with a straight face, I'd be most impressed."

"Try me," she challenged, her eyes wide with studied innocence. "I believe I am married to the most beautiful women in all of Charleston."

She glanced down for a second, before bringing her head back up at a slight tilt. Her green eyes were slightly concealed by her lowered lids, her eyes still directed downwards in a show of southern belle modesty at its best. "Why darling," she trilled softly, "that's the most cleverest thing I've ever heard a body say in my entire life."

"You know," he remarked, linking his arm through her's, escorting her toward the door to their bedroom, "I believe I underestimated your abilities, I really did believe you meant that."

Shyly, she razed her gaze to met his dark eyes, her own sparkling with mirth, "Why shouldn't I have meant it, it's the truth.'

"And the most modest woman as well," he adding laughing, "I am a lucky man."

"Why darling, that's the most..." she managed before he kissed.

3 18


	125. Gestures

**For Avagrace, welcome back to a long summer of fanfiction and Sassyani, just welcome...**

Penny handed Scarlett the small silver backed hand mirror and left her alone to put the final touches on her coiffure and dress. Raising her eyes to meet her own pensive gaze in the mirror, Scarlett admired Penny's artful hand. She was a reliable girl, Scarlett thought while adjusting a pin with the aid of her hand mirror. Certainly she was a better ladies maid than Prissy or Pansy.

With a final twist of the pin, she smiled but without humor. In a recent letter Ashley commented that Pansy had found employment with India and Pittypat. Little wonder she'd seek employment among the old guard of Atlanta, the girl disliked being away from Atlanta. She'd gone so far as to tell Scarlett so.

Not that Scarlett had particularly cared; to her way of thinking ladies maids should be seen and seldom heard. Pansy had been inclined towards twittering like a starling thought the day until Scarlett's head ached. It was likely she would have dismissed her upon her return to Atlanta so her desertion to the enemy made little difference in Scarlett's opinion.

Let that old maid India try and convince Pansy to confide in her some scandalous tidbits about her former mistress, thought Scarlett dismissively. India was too high minded, at least in her own stiff necked way, to create gossip from whole cloth and as she never confided in her ladies maids there was nothing Pansy could confide. The India's of the world felt secure in passing on innuendo and ruin when they thought it had some basis in fact, but without even a seed of a story to build on, India would keep her tongue.

Prissy left her knowing more than Scarlett liked, but that was to be expected. Prissy had been with her from her marriage to Charlie until just after Rhett left. Privy to that much of Scarlett's life, Prissy couldn't help but know things about Scarlett and her family, things that would be best left unmentioned. Luckily, the man Prissy married was a native of Tennessee and he'd taken his new bride home.

Scarlett leaned forward, studying her face in the vanity mirror. She looked pale and a little out of sorts, she decided after a moment of silent contemplation. Opening the bottom drawer, she withdrew a small leather bound box. In Charleston she had refrained from using cosmetics, initially at Rhett's insistence. He'd made some less than favorable comparisons to a woman who she would rather not even think of. While she could do without lip and cheek rouge and her large green luminous eyes were perfectly acceptable without kohl, she hated doing without powder for her nose.

Opening the case, she removed a packet of talc dusted sheets of rice paper. The sheets were a concession, a balance between the cosmetics she missed and her need to look better than the women around her. Lightly Scarlett rubbed a china sheet on her nose. Better, but not enough. Dissatisfied with the results, she took a tiny brush made with mink and a small cardboard container of talcum powder. Brushing a little powder on her face, she bit her lips several times before admiring the results in the mirror. Perfect. The very picture of a lady of gentle breeding. She tried to smile, but it turned into a grimace. How long could she continue on in this charade? Sooner or later the appeal of playacting would wear thing.

Putting down the brush, Scarlett whipped her hands on a clean handkerchief before smoothing her hands over the bodice of her dress. Her earlier at home dress, while pretty, was not appropriate for paying a call. Feeling one of her two blue twill walking costumes would be becoming, she directed Penny to unpack one. Rummaging for a moment, Penny pulled a dress from the trunk and asked "Is this what you're going to wear Miss Scarlett?"

That simple question brought a flood of memories back to her. The smell of magnolias and Tara's rich red clay wafted through the windows as Mammy's rolling, still Savannah accented voice asked "Whut mah lamb gwine wear?" Her throat had closed with emotion and she was only able to nod to Penny before turning away.

Why did you have to leave me too, Scarlett had wondered silently while Penny brushed out her hair. I need you so much; if you were here to take care of me I would be better already, she thought tiredly, then Rhett wouldn't worry so. He never worried so much when you were here.

Thinking of Mammy made Scarlett wonder just what it was that Rhett saw and heard when dealing with her. Throughout their lives together, Scarlett had been endlessly irritated by the way Mammy could see straight through her, past any falsehood or half-truth. Rhett believed he possessed a similar ability. He'd told her so hundreds of times, gloating at how clearly he could see through her. On the piazza, when she'd sworn that she would put the idea of having a baby from her mind, he'd believed her.

Either he was going soft in his old age or she was becoming a better liar as she matured, she thought with a self satisfied smirk.

Exhaling softly, she closed her eyes. Tentatively, knowing that it was a still futile gesture, Scarlett reached down to place her the flat of her palm over her abdomen, her still flat abdomen. Too soon to tell. Opening her eyes once more, she picked up a cosmetic brush, toying with it. She knew that it was still too soon to tell, but it gave her a sense of peace to consider that their child could be growing inside her.

Rhett seemed to believe she was capable of surrendering so quickly. Hasty, unconditional surrender was so completely out of character for her, she thought he'd see right through her. Relief at getting his own way made him eager, if he was thinking rationally, he would have suspected that she an ulterior motive.

On the ride back over from the landing, she had been sick to her stomach. It wasn't the motion of the waves rocking the small craft; she hated being out on the water, but she could manage. Her stomach churned sporadically, triggered by the smell of the coal that burned in the launch's boiler. The smell of coal made her sick when she was carrying both Ella and Bonnie. The heavy ashy scent seemed to cling to her clothes, following her through the day. It was a scent that made her so ill she'd begun to use wood in the stove at the store despite its frequent need to be restocked by the often forgetful clerks.

There were other signs, some she was certain of and others that she conceded could be lingering effects from the sailing accident. But she refused to believe that she wasn't carrying Rhett's child. In her mind, where she did not allow self-delusion or flights of fancy, she knew. God in heaven, she had been pregnant four times before, she knew the signs of a pregnancy.

In agreeing to put aside her dreams of expanding their family, she had reached out and seized a winning hand. Now, when they inevitably found out that she was expecting, she could remind Rhett that she had been willing to forego her desire for another child, the fact that God had other plans could hardly be held against her. Rhett Butler may be a powerful man, she thought fondly, a supercilious smiled on her lips, but even he could not gainsay the will of God.

The early afternoon sun shining through the leaves made dappled patterns on the wall and from down the hall she could hear Carlen signing a hymn in the midst of some chore. Rhett would be up soon, but for the time being she was alone. Closing her eyes, she lifted her face toward the ceiling and murmured softly the prayer that Careen had taught her several weeks before, "Oh most Powerful Patron, who has always helped those who prayed to thee, intercede for me before the Throne of God. Good Saint Gerard, to thee I confide my fervent prayers; graciously accept them and, before the end of these days of prayer, let me experience the effects of thy powerful intercession. Through the intercession of the Holy Mother, protect me. Amen."

From the top drawer of her vanity, Scarlett took a handkerchief and unwrapped a small silver medallion. A gift from Careen, she wanted to keep it with her, but she didn't dare wear it, not if she wanted to maintain the fragile peace that currently existed between herself and Rhett.

**A/N Sorry its a short one, I've been working on the fundrasing walk for kids like my daughter and its taken up a lot of time. I promise, more later this week.**

**DANI 9 DAYS!**


	126. Resurrection

**A/N **

**Dear Batgirl,**

**Please do not forget to pick me up at the airport, I will not be hanging out with Bob Hope this time. Keep that in mind. **

**Love, **

**Stupendous Chick**

**PS We are hitting something greasy on the way to your house.**

The walk over had only taken them ten minutes. Rhett was at his most charming, telling her little stories about some of the houses they passed. Several times they stopped to exchange a polite greeting. A particularly enthusiastic greeting from an elderly woman who prevailed upon Rhett to come by for tea made Scarlett giggle softly. The woman looked Scarlett over and added that he was to bring his pretty wife with him. Waiting just until the older woman was out of earshot she began to tease him mercilessly, claiming in a choked tone of voice that he was respectable now, dragging her down along with him.

"Respectable am I?" He asked, raising a dark brow. "I will have to do something in the very near future to rid you of such a ridiculous idea."

"Oh Rhett," she scoffed lightly before changing the topic to some trivial gossip she'd heard while he was gone.

Opening a waist high gate, he ushered her into the yard of a house on a corner lot. "What do you think," asked Rhett, escorting her up the front path.

"Its lovely," she said honestly, and truly, it was. The house was three stories, each story made complete with a piazza that ran the entire length of the side and back of the house. Rich, shinning black paint had been used in a Greek key pattern to highlight and enhance the trim. The shutters at every window were done in the same color black, many of which were closed against the bright late day sun. A conservatory jutted off to one side and through the glass, Scarlett could see lush greenery. "Your friend must have impeccable taste."

"He likes to think so," Rhett said smiling.

With the tip of her boot, Scarlett nudged the crushed clam shells and bluestone chips that made up the walkway. "I wouldn't care to have to manage this on a daily basis."

Looking contrite, Rhett encircle her waist, resting his hand just above her hip. "There's a side door in the wall that faces Meeting Street, we'll use that the next time we come."

"Next time," she teased, "aren't you being a little presumptuous, I might not like your friend's wife or she might take an instant dislike to me. I know that hardly seems possible, me not getting along with another woman, but it has indeed happened before."

"Try and make yourself agreeable, as a favor to me," he asked.

Rolling her emerald eyes, she reached up and straightened his collar before smoothing the lapels of his jacket. Small gestures, but they brought a look of pleasure into his eyes that she couldn't help but respond to. "For you, anything, but if she is your typical old guard snob I will expect you to make this up to me in a satisfactory manner."

"Oh," he leaned close brushing his lips against hers, "I think you and the mistress of this house will be as close as..."

Pulling away, she admired a small stature of a Greek maiden reaching toward the sky. "Not pushing me a bit, are you?"

"Trust me."

"Only as far as I can throw you," she commented dryly.

When they reached the door, Scarlett stretched out her hand to caress the knocker. It was an elaborate piece of work, made from brass and cast in the shape of the harps that adorned the halls of the Saint Cecilia society. "Your friend, is he Irish?"

"No. I would say he is an admirer of the Irish people, of course some people more than others."

Rhett's knocking summoned a plump motherly looking Negro woman who grinned with obvious delight when she saw Rhett. "Mistah Rhet', Mistah Aubree be hea soon, he got you mes'age, but he gotta meetin he coun'd leve. He tole me to make you feel to home."

Elongated white clouds, seemingly miles long, rolled across the sky casting shadows across the yard. A chill passed through her body. While the house seemed welcoming, she suddenly wanted nothing more than to return to Miss Eleanor's. Catching Rhett's sleeve, she tugged it lightly. "Rhett, if your friend isn't here, perhaps we could come again another time," interjected Scarlett.

"Nonsense," he cut her off with a confident smile, "Marnee, I am going to show Mrs. Butler the house. You'll let Rupert know we're here when he arrives, won't you.'

"Surely will Mistah Rhet'."

Taking her arm, Rhett brought her into the foyer. For a moment some of Scarlett's doubts were quelled as she looked around, admiring the vast interior of the foyer. The inside of the house was unexpected when compared with its exterior.

From outside it was an attractive house but nothing set it immediately apart from neighboring houses. The exterior as well as the trim had been recently painted. The paint still retained that glossy sheen that came as the oil in the paint evaporated in the tropical air of Charleston. The gardens were well kept and the out buildings that were visible just beyond the house seemed to be in excellent repair. However, none of these things prepared Scarlett for the grandeur of the inside of the house.

Tilting her head back, Scarlett admired the high ceiling a full three stories over her head. It was plain to see that a great deal of thought and care went into every detail of the effect that the cathedral like ceiling would have on observers below. Though unilluminated, a glittering chandelier hanging between the second and third story landings immediately caught Scarlett's eye. With its gleaming crystals and jewel hued finials it was spectacular without being gaudy.

"Its magnificent, isn't it?" commented Rhett in her ear, "its in the Adam's style, as is much of the house."

Tearing her attention from the chandelier, Scarlett asked, "What about Mrs. Aubrey, I can't imagine she'd want us to traipse around her house unescorted, is she at home?"

Marnee cocked her head, "Mrs. Aubrey..."

"Is otherwise engaged, at least that's what I assume if she isn't here to greet us," supplied Rhett smoothly.

Marnee nodded in agreement. "I reckon tat's so Mistah Rhet'."

"Come upstairs Scarlett, I want to show you the second floor drawing room. It is a gem of Charleston and federal architecture and it survived the war mostly intact."

Her eyes skimmed the almond colored walls. As they walked through the foyer the almond gave way to a honey taupe color. The colors were different but at the same time complemented the other. "I've never seen this done in quite the same way before." She glanced down a hallway to their right. 'I love the way the color changes in the same room, it looks so elegant with all the white plaster decorative work."

"The plaster work throughout the house is done in the style of James and Robert Adam, not that either of those names will mean anything to you my beautiful ignoramus."

Her formerly smiling lips flattened into a line. He could see that she was offended at his casual insult and he apologized almost immediately. " Please excuse me, I didn't think."

"Why don't you tell me who those two men are and I'll pretend to understand," she offered acidly.

Resting his hand in the small of her back, he helped her climb the stairs. "They were Scottish architects; brothers and rivals, living and working in the mid to late 1700's. They designed everything, from the exteriors of buildings to their interiors. They were completely dedicated to each project, paying equal consideration to everything they did, down to the smallest detail. They didn't do this house but the original owners were British. They tried to emulate their style. Upstairs, the second floor drawing room is nearly identical to one I saw in Hyde Park years ago. I've always admired this house; friends of my parents once owned it. After the war it was in terrible shape but then my friend bought it and refurbished it. I was happy to see it come back to its former self."

Traces of nostalgia was evident in his voice throughout his discourse, she had never known him to feel strongly about places until the night Melly died. The broken man that sat across from her had spoke of longing; the longing to go to a place where he could find beauty and comfort. It was apparent that Charleston did that for him. "This is the sort of house you would like to live in, isn't it?"

The old mask slid over his features. "I would be happy to live anywhere that pleases you, a claim I feel I have proved beyond a shadow of a doubt."

Resting a hand on the banister, she looked down below at the tile mosaics in the foyer. The tiles, which she had thought were pretty while looking at them when they entered, were even more attractive from above. She liked them, very much, but at the same time recognized them as something that she would have dismissed as too old fashioned for her house in Atlanta. "In New Orleans, when you told me you'd build me a house, this was the sort of house you had in mind, wasn't it?"

His mask slipped a little and he joined her. "The truth?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to hear it."

"Yes. I hoped you would want something tasteful like this house or along the lines of the Creole mansions we'd seen in New Orleans." A wry smile formed on his lips, "I seem to recall I even suggested a colonial thinking you'd enjoy living in an imitation of Twelve Oaks."

"But instead I made you build a house you hated."

He moved away from her a little, running his hand through his hair as he so often did when he was deep in thought. "I didn't hate the house Scarlett, I hated the things that happened in it. If you and I had been happy there; if our family had been happy, then I could and no doubt would have looked at that monstrosity as a dream house. If you were happy and came to love me because of that house, I would have considered it money well spent."

"If we had built the sort of house you wanted..."

"Then I would have been unhappy in far more tasteful surroundings." He took her arm again and they continued up the stairs.

"I thought they were tasteful, at the time. As you said, the first time we took the children over to the Landing, the way things were after the war made me," she paused thoughtfully, "go a little crazy I suppose. You offered me an open pocketbook and told me to do what I wanted, so I did. I just wanted everyone who'd looked down their nose at me to envy me instead. I thought that would make me happy. Only it didn't work because in the end that house made me miserable once you were gone and the children were out at Tara."

"I'm sorry you were unhappy..."

"I ended up with the moon but didn't know what to do with it once I got it."

The reference to his long ago comments the night of the party made him wince a little, "Scarlett, I..."

Seeing his discomfort she decided to move on. "Tell me more about this house," she interrupted, "please."

Her attention elsewhere, Scarlett missed the appreciation in his warm eyes. "Your wish is my command my lady, the mantle in the drawing room is a flawless example of the Adam's style; it's decorated with repeating patterns of palmettos and rosettes. The ceiling is the same; it was made to echo the design of the mantle. There's a hidden door that leads into the next room. The way its fashioned, you'd never know it was there unless you knew to look. Most of the other rooms in the house were in poor shape after the war, the drawing room and a few others were the only ones to survive mostly intact."

"You make quite the guide, thank you Rhett, that was very informative," she teased gently.

"Meaning you heard the words Scottish, ceiling and door?"

"What's this about a door," she replied, smiling slightly.

"Clever."

"I thought so." She glanced over the banister at the grand ceiling above them, "How old is this house, do you know? It reminds me of grandpere Robiliard's house in Savannah."

"This house was completed in 1788, your grandfather's house would be from around the same period. I stand in awe of your observational powers," he commented, admiration in his voice.

Reaching the head of the gallery styled hallway, she drew away from him and rested a slim hand on her hip. "Rhett Butler, you are really such a...a man sometimes. I was in the lumber business for years, I've built houses by the dozens and despite what you thought of it, I contributed to the building and outfitting of the Peachtree street house. I know a great deal about architecture and furnishings. I may not know all of the historical tidbits and proper names as you do, but I am not completely in the dark."

"I stand corrected and chastised."

"No you don't, you've got that look."

"What look," he asked, his face composed in a guise of cherubic innocence.

"Like I am a kitten, gambling about for your amusement."

"If I scratch your belly, will you purr or claw?"

"Rhett!" she exclaimed. Glancing around them, she pursed her lips. "What if someone were to hear you."

"No doubt they would be eagerly awaiting your answer to my question, incidentally which is it pur..."

Reaching up, she cupped her hand over his lips. "Rhett, stop."

Covering her hand with his, he moved it away and kissing her palm, he wrapped his hand around hers. "I'll behave."

"There's a first time for everything I guess."

"Defiantly claw me."

"So much for behaving."

"The Aubrey's are used to my behavior. Rupert Aubrey has represented me for over a decade and I've known him since we were both in short pants. It behooves him to turn a blind eye from time to time to my shortcomings."

"Oh." Scarlett's face clouded and she turned from him to admire a particularly well done oil painting of Charleston Harbor.

"Scarlett?"

"If he's your lawyer, then he knows."

"Knows what?"

"About us and our previous situation, about how you were wanting to divorce me."

Sensing he'd gain nothing by lying, Rhett brushed his lips against her forehead. When she gave a small sigh, he took her into his arms. Holding her against his chest, he tipped her chin back until they were face to face. Scarlett's expression was composed, but the corners of her mouth were tight with unhappiness. "Yes he does Scarlett. He's the one who drew up all of the papers." He brushed a few strands of hair from her face, "He didn't approve, he asked me to reconsider and when I told him that I wouldn't need his services in that quarter any longer he was happy, for the both of us."

"Then his wife must know too."

A light shone in his eyes, but she couldn't discern what it meant. "I doubt that."

"People talk Rhett, no matter how much we might wish they wouldn't."

"In the first place, Rupert is the soul of discretion. I would trust him with my life; indeed I have trusted him with my life on several occasions and he hasn't disappointed me."

"Being the soul of discretion just means he might not go tittle tattling to the neighbors, that doesn't bar him confiding in his wife."

"He doesn't have a wife."

Suspicion flared in her eyes even as she asked, "I beg your pardon?"

"Rupert isn't married, he's a widower."

"Then who is the mistress of this house?"

Pinching her chin gently, he grinned. "That's for me to know and you to find out."

A hectic flush of color tinged her cheeks. "Don't be absurd, you told me that I would like the mistress of this house, I was fairly certain you said his wife, if not his wife then who is it? His sister?"

"No."

"Then who; an aunt, his mother, a distant cousin?"

Rhett brushed off her queries with a mysterious smile. "Fear not fair maiden, all will be revealed."

Letting go over her hand, he moved down the hall about a half dozen steps, "Come here, I want to show you something."

She joined him as he opened the door. One the other side was a room that appeared to be used as a study. Painted in soft green tones, it was an attractive, if sparsely furnished room. Only a desk and a few small pieces of occasional furniture were in the otherwise empty room. It began to occur to her that from the little she'd seen of the house so far, it was elegantly decorated but there wasn't very much in the way of furnishings or ornaments. That was in and of itself not all that uncommon in Charleston. People forced by circumstance sold off the little niceties they managed to hang on to through the war. But, she thought, that chandler is worth a small fortune why would that remain if the owners were in dire straights?

"Have your friends lived here long?" Asked Scarlett, her curiosity piqued.

"No, not too long. I wanted to show you this room first because it leads into the drawing room I mentioned," stepping forward, he opened the door that was before him.

The smell of salt and roses came flooding into the room, washing over her with daunting familiarity. Her breath caught in her throat. Without realizing what she was doing, Scarlett reached out and caught the back of a chair. "Mary, mother of God," she murmured, both as exclamation and prayer.

He was by her side in a heartbeat. "I was wrong to bring you out, you should be in bed."

"No," she whispered softly, past the lump in her throat. Shivering a little, she fought to regain equilibrium. From his behavior even since before her fainting spell at the landing, she knew that is she didn't pull herself together quickly, he would never let her out of the house again.

Telling herself that she was being ridiculous, she forced a smile to her lips and tilting her head a little, she squared her shoulders. Could she convince him that she was fine? Drawing a breath in to fortify herself, she knew she could. It certainly wasn't the first time she'd ever pulled the wool over his eyes and it certainly wouldn't be the last. "I'm fine, just a little lightheaded."

"You're lying," he accused bluntly.

"I'm not, it was just the stairs," she improvised quickly, "they were more than I could manage."

Taking her hand, his raised it to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back, a slight frown of concern creased his forehead. "I don't believe you."

"Suit yourself. Those stairs were massive, I shouldn't have tried them." She shook her head a little, "Why must you press so? You never did before."

"But I wanted to," he admitted.

"Rhett," she took his hand in hers and lightly rubbed her thumb over his wedding band, "I meant what I said at Miss Eleanor's. I love you, but I won't be a prisoner."

Ignoring her words, he squeezed her hand. "I don't want to fight, come see the drawing room, we'll sit in there and wait for Aubrey."

Lifting her gaze toward the door leading into the next room she smiled wanly, "After you Captain Butler." Following him, she crossed the threshold into the drawing room.


	127. Dwelling

**A chapter in honor of my daughter Cassie's first visit from the tooth fairy. The fairy had to make two trips in two days. Now Cassie won't stop looking under her pillow for cash every morning. Oh childhood, equal amounts of magic and crushing disappointment (lol, prepares them for dating)**

**And as always, for Dani, I can only say this**

**WHERE MY PRINCESSES AT?**

For an indeterminable amount of time she stood motionless. "Oh holy God," she murmured to herself, taking several steps into the room, all the while resisting the urge to pinch her arms black and blue in the hopes of rousing herself from what could be only be a nightmare. A nightmare was the only logical explanation for her surroundings.

'My eyes are playing a trick on me,' she thought frantically, 'I'm seeing things because I'm still sick. If I close my eyes, this will all be gone.'

Slowly, Scarlett reopened her eyes. The room seemed to tilt and she gripped the head of her cane tightly in her sweat slick hand. Her surroundings were unchanged; the room was as it had been before she shut her eyes.

Despite the sheer impossibility of it, she was standing in the room that she'd dreamt of dozens of times over the years. Though she wanted to deny it, she couldn't. The lemon hued room that in her nightmare's had held Rhett's coffin was the room in which she presently stood. Not just Rhett's coffin, a small voice whispered, but also the room in which her own coffin had rested.

Tugging on the constricting collar of her visiting dress, she swallowed spasmodically. Late afternoon sunshine bathed the room in warmth and light but she'd never felt colder. Some details were different, but the similarities to the room in her dreams far outweighed the differences. The pale lemon walls were accented with white poplar wainscoting. Around the ceiling, white plaster cornice work gleamed.

Looking down at the floor, the amber stained wood glowed with a coat of fresh wax. Lifting her gaze, she watched for a moment as the long gauze curtains from her dreams moved in the rose and salt scented breeze that poured through the large windows. Half expecting to see the casket from her nightmares, she was reluctant to go any further, but curiosity won out over reluctance and dread.

The furniture in the room was comprised of several pieces that were immediately familiar to her. The settee was unfamiliar but before it sat the low mahogany table her mother had brought to Tara from her father's home in Savannah. When the Butler house in Atlanta had been completed, Scarlett immediately arranged to have it brought to her new home. Sue had grumbled about her being every bit as bad as the Yankees who plundered Tara but Scarlett paid her no mind. For reasons she could not explain, she wanted the table and felt entitled to take it.

Rhett must have remembered its significance and arranged for it to be shipped from Atlanta, she thought.

Several other pieces from the Atlanta House were scattered through the room; the matching armchairs were from one of the guest rooms, two small curios were from her office, and above the mantle...

Moving like a sleepwalker in the grip of a dream, Scarlett came to stand before the mantle. Hanging over it was the heavy Venetian mirror from Rhett's room at the Landing. Adorned with Celtic lovers knots, she knew it well, having seen it over at the Landing just a few days prior.

For several long minutes she did not speak or move. Barely seeming to breathe, she struggled, searching her mind to find something to explain the room's existence. Slowly turning to look at him, her voice strong; the fear and uncertainty she felt contained, "The furniture, its from Atlanta. My mother's table, the curios from my office, the mirror from the Landing; they're all here, in this room. The mistress of this house, the woman you admire so much, it's me. This is our house." Her eyes were two flat pieces of green glass. Gleaming, but completely without passion or joy.

His dark eyes were flat, devoid of emotion as he took in the stricken expression on her face. "You don't like it?" Clearly, the reaction he'd hoped for was not the one he'd gotten.

When she was a little girl, her father told stories of the Irish and their fabled second sight. As she grew older, she brushed his stories off as nonsense, occasionally teasing him about his penchant for telling fairy stories. When he would start one of his wild tales, she sometimes felt a little ashamed, thinking him a product of the old country, dismissing it all as superstitions and outdated beliefs. But now, standing in a room that she had visited repeatedly in dreams, she wished with all her might that she hadn't teased him but asked, how could such things be?

"Scarlett?" When she remained silent, he reached out and lightly gripped her shoulders, "Say something, if you're angry that I bought a house without consulting you, I only wanted to surprise you."

"You did," she managed finally, turning back toward her reflection in the mirror. She scarcely knew the woman reflected in the mirror. Staring back at her was an ashen complexioned woman, glittering emerald eyes large in her pale face. The tender skin beneath her eyes was shadowed with slight smudges, making her appear waifish and delicate. But looks were deceiving; her fragile appearance belied the core of iron she posed. Putting her hand over his, she squeezed it lightly. "You've surprised me more that you could ever know."

Tracing the curve of her check with his ring finger, he searched her face, before commenting, "You don't like it."

She shivered a little as the ridge of his ring lightly scraped her cheek. He wanted her to be happy, had expected her to throw her arms around his neck and exclaim with happiness but God in heaven, how could she? This house had haunted her, figured in her nightmares for years. "I do," she managed to whisper, "its just a lot to take in," she lied, poorly.

Rhett's steady gaze was disconcerting, it seemed as though he was trying to look into her heart. "You hate it," he said finally, disappointed, but resigned. Shrugging, he moved away. "It's no matter."

Scarlett caught his arm. The warmth of his body under her fingertips grounded her and she felt some of the strain leaving her body.

Looking down at her, he tried to understand how she felt. Lines, faint, but still present at the corners of her lips came from exhaustion. She was tired, he could see that she was, but disappointment at her lack of enthusiasm drove his current emotions. As she peered up into his face, her eyes beseeching him to tell her different, she asked, "You want to live here..."

The world has to revolve around Scarlett, he thought, I've always known that to be true but I thought, in this one thing, she could bend a little. Shrugging her off, he moved away from her, feigning an interest in the plasterwork around the mantle. "But you don't," he finished with a bite in his voice.

Scarlett's face contorted. Whether it was his intention to or not, he was slowly putting her on the defensive. Sometimes, Rhett was insufferable. He was disappointed that she hadn't jumped for joy at being told that he'd made such an important decision without consulting her? That was absurd, after all this was the house in which he expected her to live, how could he just assume she'd live somewhere without having so much as one word to say about it.

The way he expected her to fall in line now that he knew she loved him angered her, so much so that she wanted to turn on heel and leave him to sulk for a while. The earlier trepidation and fear she felt at seeing the room outside her nightmares melted away, replaced by annoyance. "When did you buy this house? You know that I'm not fond of surprises, at least surprises that I don't know something about."

Rhett smirked a little, reticent as always, he only observed lightly, "Correct me if I am wrong, but isn't the definition of the term surprised 'not knowing something is going to happen'?"

"You know very well what I mean. I like to have an inkling that something is about to happen. I hate it when things are just dropped in my lap. We've been past this house in the last few weeks, but you never said a word. I know you well enough to know you don't make impulsive purchases, at least not on this scale. If you were considering buying this house, I don't understand why you couldn't at least point it out to me, just to see what I'd think."

"I didn't acquire this house on an impulse, I've owned it for over a year."

Her brows rose and a breathless "Oh!" escaped her lips before she could stop herself. His admission had caught her completely off guard and now, he knew it. Glancing around the room, Scarlett considered the state of the rest of the house, he couldn't and wouldn't have put in so much effort just on a whim. The house must have had an intended occupant. Her eyes narrowed a little, "You bought this enormous house a year ago, who for?"

The old mocking glint was back in his eyes as he coolly appraised her. "Careful Scarlett, your jealousy is showing. I did not buy this house for some mystery woman; rest assured, your claws can remain sheathed. I bought this house and several others at the sheriff's auction as an investment, nothing more."

Remembering Ross's words about how his brother acquired the Landing, she asked "Was it the same auction you bought the Landing at?"

"No." The twisty half smile she despised settled on his lips. "Did I tell you how I required the Landing? I don't believe I did." Shaking his head, he gave her a mock scolding. "Gossiping is such a dirty habit Scarlett, if you ever want to know something, ask me outright."

"Because you've always been so forthcoming in the past," she retorted, her voice tinged with sarcasm and not a little sadness.

"Now, now...I didn't say I would tell you anything, I only said you could ask." It was there, the old familiar hot rush of pleasure it used to give him to verbally flay her with a cool look in his eyes and a mocking grin on his lips. If they did not work together to exercise them, the specters of the past would begin to haunt them once again. "We go round and round in circles don't we? Always ready to pick up right where we left off."

Sighing, she rubbed her forehead for a minute with the heel of her palm, a sure sign that one of her headaches was coming on. "It's only been a month, give it time. It's hard to change old habits, harder than I ever thought it would be."

Taking her in his arms, he kissed the crown of her head, breathing in the scent of Florida water and roses. Her body stiffened for a moment before she leaned into his embrace. "You do realize," he informed her, stroking her hair, "we've talked more in the last month than we did during our entire marriage."

She nodded. "I'm sorry Rhett. I know you wanted me to be excited, it's a lovely house, but I'm just tired."

He tilted her chin up. "Is that the truth or just an excuse?"

"Can't it be both?" She asked candidly.

"Scarlett," he said quietly, "what is it about this house, the truth."

"I just hate that I didn't know you already had a home picked out for us," she said, averting her gaze.

"I think you're lying."

"That's nothing new, you always think I'm lying," she replied bitterly.

"That's because you usually are."

"I've tried to be honest with you this last month."

There was a sudden light in his eyes; it was that old expression that she'd always thought of as a cat at the mouse's hole. "Tried, or have been?"

Caught in a trap of her own words, she flinched involuntarily. Rosemary's feelings for Doctor Cross and Scarlett's own duplicity in that matter came immediately to mind. The fact that she was concealing from him the knowledge that she might be pregnant was there as well. She could only met his searching gaze with dismay and some hostility. "Must you twist everything I say? You're always looking for something where there's nothing."

"Not true, but where there's smoke, traditionally there's fire."

A dusky pink color rose into her face. Her hand curled tightly around her cane, her wedding and engagement rings cutting into her flesh. "Please," she demanded in a voice that made it clear she was making a demand not a request, "I just want to go home."

"Where is home my dear?"

"Anywhere you are my darling," she simpered in a sickly sweet voice, "now will you take me back to Miss Eleanor's?"

"Not until you tell me the real reason you dislike this house."

She was tired in body and mind. The walk over coupled with managing to climb the seemingly endless stairs exhausted her body. The shock of seeing her nightmares come to life still reverberated through her. Her head was throbbing, aching dully and she knew by nightfall she would be lying prostrate on their bed with a cold cloth on her forehead. Agony etched itself on Scarlett's face. Like a terrier with a rat, he was going to keep at it till he broke her once and for all.

Difficult as it was to admit to herself, she was still ill. It was as it had been in the months after her fall. Her muscles ached; sometimes she had to close her eyes in an attempt to staunch the throbbing pain of her frequent headaches. In her distress, she sought to blame someone for her present state and there was Rhett. Rhett always seemed to be at the root of things. He had been the one with whom she was quarreling on the stairs that fateful morning. He was the one who neglected to keep an eye on the weather while they were sailing. He was the one who inexplicably managed to buy the house that contained this nightmarish pastel room.

The more rational part of her said no, it wasn't fair to blame everything on him. She had contributed to her present state, but the part of her that was in pain turned to Rhett as the source of all the ills in her life. If she told him the truth about what was really bothering her about their new home, but he would never believe her. He'd assume she was still lying to cover another, more logical reason. Better to tell a half-truth than have him regard her with doubt or worse, amusement.

"It's just too big a house for me," Scarlett said. Seeing the disbelief in his eyes, she quickly added, "I just don't think I'd be comfortable here, at least, not right now."

From his early adolescence, Rhett had strove to conceal his true emotions under a bland mask of causal indifference. Her so-called "admission" was so laughable that his mask slipped. "Honestly Scarlett, really? That's the best that you can do?" He chuckled a little. "This house isn't half the size of the Atlanta house. Am I to believe that you'd prefer a cottage? Some tiny..."

The laughter and his casual dismissal of her concerns drove her beyond the breaking point. "I can't live in a house that I can't manage in," she cried, her voice shaking. "You want me to be happy here, but how can I be? How do you expect me to get around this house on my own? I could barely manage those stairs before, how do you think I'll be able to cope with them several times a day? You're angry with me because I'm not happy to be the mistress of a house that I can't navigate. That's why I'm not overjoyed about this house."

The naked pain in her voice gave him pause. This time, when he spoke, his voice was gentle, but firm. "We could fix one of the rooms on the ground floor up as a master bedroom, at least for the time being. Every one of your reasons is something we could work around, if you like this house. You're giving me excuses Scarlett, not valid reasons that I can believe. I'm not trying to upset you, but I want to know what the real problem is."

"Aren't you satisfied yet?" She sat down heavily on the settee, her leg and hip ached, pain driving her to lash out at the only available target. "What else do you want me to say, that I feel trapped in my own body? That I can't even walk down a flight of stairs without clinging to the banister like a helpless child." She lifted her eyes to meet his, "That my husband won't even consider having a baby with me and treats me as if I were an invalid?"

The flesh around his mouth tightened and a muscle ticked angrily in his jaw. She knew that she'd struck a blow, but suddenly she wondered if the outcome was worth the vague sense of satisfaction it gave her. "This is a new low Scarlett, even for you and I. You surprise me sometimes. I know you are capable of going for the throat, but it's only when your teeth are actually sinking into my jugular that I realize you are not only capable but prepared to tear out my throat."

"I shouldn't have mentioned having a child," she apologized haltingly, "I gave you my word that I'd let it go, for now."

He offered her his hand. She did not hesitate to allow him to help her to her feet.

"I'll take you home. You should be resting."

"Yes. About this house..." She began reluctantly.

"Never mind. I've bought several other houses over the last year. None of them are as fine as this one, nor are they as near to being completed, but at least two of them have distinct possibilities. We'll look at them next week."

"What made you so sure it was right for us?" She asked as they made their way downstairs.

"I thought this house would please you. Last year, when I learned that it was about to go under the gavel, I knew I wanted it. Mother couldn't understand, she remembered it as it had been. All she could see was that the house was dilapidated and the outbuildings and gardens were neglected. I looked at it and not only remembered it as it once was, but I saw what it could be again. I restored it with every intention of selling. Before you arrived, I half entertained the idea of keeping it, but it was too large a house just for me."

Stopping on the landing, he grasped her by the shoulders and lowered his mouth to hers. Startled, her mouth opened and he took full advantage. Allowing him to kiss her, Scarlett willed herself to stay aloof. After their tense exchange upstairs she wanted to keep herself distant for a time, if only to prove to herself that she could resist him if she so chose.

His hands slid down her waist, stopping to curve possessively over her hips. Pulling her closer, she could feel his heart thudding against her breast. Without thinking, she clutched the front of his shirt with her free hand, swaying slightly. Triumphantly, he threaded his hand through her hair, pulling some of it free from its pins. Drawing her head gently back, he pressed his lips against her racing pulse.

"Tell me you love me," he whispered against her throat before bringing his mouth back to hers. "Scarlett, tell me that you love me," he repeated softly before kissing her breathless.

She turned her head a little, her cheek resting against his. "You know I do," she said quietly.

"It doesn't matter what I know or don't know; it matters to hear you tell me."

She couldn't begin to pretend otherwise. "I love you," she said.

Her lifted her chin with the tips of his fingers. "Despite my best efforts to the contrary, I missed you and I missed the children. I put the idea of living alone in this house out of my mind almost immediately after I thought of it. Living in a house this large alone would have only magnified those feelings of loneness a hundredfold."

"You could have come home to us."

"No, I couldn't have. Not to that tomb I once tried to call home. Being told that you don't want to go back to that mausoleum is the second best thing I've ever heard."

"What was the first best thing?" She asked offhandedly.

"For someone with an ego as large as the one you posses, it comes as a surprise that you would even have to ask."

"It doesn't matter what I do or don't know,' she began before he kissed her again.

When they at last broke off their embrace, Scarlett's expression was thoughtful. "You never mentioned any of this. The other houses, the ones you bought, have you sold any of them yet?"

"None of them are ready yet, or even close enough for me to accept serious offers. Aubrey did have an offer for this house, but when you and I were talking about the sort of house you wanted, it sounded as though you were describing this house. With that in mind, I had Aubrey reject the offer."

"I'm sorry."

They stood together at the bottom of the stairs, each in quiet contemplation. The house was silent; to Scarlett it felt as though she were in the belly of a beast that was holding its breath, waiting for something.

"I'd like to make you a proposition."

"You don't have to proposition me Rhett, I'm already your wife," she replied with a demure smile.

Pinching her cheek lightly, he smiled, but his expression remained serious. "I won't lie to you, I love this house. I think if you gave it time, you would come to feel the same way I do."

"I don't..."

"I want us to live here, on a trial basis. I'm asking you for six months. Doctor Cross predicted that you would be feeling more yourself by the end of summer. If by the end of August you still feel as though you can't manage in this house, we'll buy something else. By then the other houses I'm restoring will also be done. I'll still take you to look at them sometime next week. If you particularly favor one of them now I'll spend a little more time on it, just in case."

She could feel her resolve slipping. "Rhett, please..."

"Not another word, not till I finish. This is something I want. I want to live in this house. I am proud of it. Its something I've done with my own hands. All the times I would disappear after you came to Charleston, I was here. I thought this house was a refuge, one in which I could hide. Instead, without know it, I was instead working on the house that I want to share with you.'

She could hear the passion in his voice. Considering all the things he'd given her over the years, he seldom asked for anything. From the very beginning of their marriage, he acquiesced when it came to where they would live and how they would furnish their home. Now she knew that he would have preferred to live away from Atlanta, but to please her, he made a home for them there even though it meant living near his rival for her heart. She wanted to deny him, explain to him why she didn't want to live in this particular house, but she couldn't. It sounded so farfetched, even to her.

"On one condition," she said, her voice sounding distant to her ears.

"Only one?" He teased, his earlier good humor returning.

She shrugged. "Well, maybe two."

"That's a relief, for a moment there, you had me worried."

"Why?"

He grinned. "Because when Scarlett O'Hara gives in that easily, she must have a reason."

"Fiddle dee dee Rhett Butler, do you want to hear my conditions or not?"

"I do."

"Condition one, when August comes, if I still can't manage, we'll move into a different house."

"Isn't that what I just suggested?"

"Is it, I can't recall? But, I want you to swear that you will not try to go back on your word."

He placed his hand over his heart in an extravagant gesture. "You have my word...as a scoundrel."

"Well that's a relief, I wouldn't have taken your word as a gentleman."

"What's the second condition?"

"If in August, I am so well that we can stay in this house, then we can agree that I am well enough to have another baby."

The humor fled his face and his jaw clenched again. "Scarlett," he warned her.

She shook her head angrily, her cascading locks flying around her pale face. "Don't you try and use that tone of voice on me. It's never worked in the past and it's not about to now. If I am well by the end of the summer, then in the fall I want us to try for a baby."

" I thought we decided..."

"No, you decided, I only agreed to keep the peace between us. I think it's a perfectly reasonable demand."

"I'm sorry to tell you Scarlett, you've overplayed your hand. I don't want to live here badly enough to agree to your terms."

" Don't be so pig headed."

Touching her face gently, he brushed a single tear from her cheek. Looking down at the sparkling droplet, he asked, "Why is this so important to you?"

"I can't put it into words, I wish I could but I can't. I can only find the words to tell you that I just know that it's finally the right time for a baby. It was never before, but now, for the first time in my life, it is."

Her eyes were bright and her color high. Any hope that he might have been clinging to dissipated. She was determined and nothing would sway her once she was decided. He could either agree to her terms and maintain some fragile hold on control in their dealings or he could refuse and be subjected to more attempts at seduction.

The incident at the Landing had taught him well, no matter how he tried, Scarlett was a temptation he could not resist. "If Doctor Cross says you aren't well enough, then that negates our bargain. We'll find a new house, but continue to wait to have a baby."

She nodded, "Agreed." Gracefully, she extended her hand to him.

With equal grace, he took her proffered hand and lifted it to his lips.

"That better not be how you conclude your business deals with women Captain Butler or I can promise you, you won't live long enough to spend a night in this house."

"Only when the woman I am dealing with has the most beautiful green eyes I've ever seen. Also, I have to be so in love with her that I can't be without her. There's only one woman I feel that way about."

"When you next see her, give her my regards," commented Scarlett, his earlier pretense of bringing her over to meet the mistress of the house still not forgotten.

"When we get to mother's look in the mirror and tell her yourself."

"Surely you don't mean me," she countered, mock surprise heavy in her voice.

"I could never say that and mean it about anyone that wasn't you. I love you," stoking her cheek with the tips of his fingers, he looked deep into her eyes, "and I always will until the day I die."

It was as if she'd plunged into an icy lake. Hearing him speak about death in the house that had featured in dreams concerning that very theme cut her to the core. Shivering a little, she moved closer to him in a silent plea to be held. When he complied, she buried her face in his chest, taking in the scents of cigars, leather, and something else that was so singularly Rhett.

Feeling the way she trembled in his arms, he wrapped one arm around her waist, stroking her back with the other. "What is it sweetheart? What's the matter?"

"Nothing," she mumbled, steeling herself against a show of hysterics during which she feared she would spill out why it was she was so terrified of the house that she'd just promised to live in. "Its nothing at all."


	128. Hopes

**I love readers traffic, ff net's new feature. It tells the author where in the world people are reading from.**

I would love to know, who are you in Austria that in the last two days has booked through about 55 chapters of FTE?

Also, I myself am half Czech, who are the people that are reading in the Czech Republic as well as Slovakia.

Thank you to everyone in Romania. You guys make me feel like a rock star. I am considering buying a tee shirt from cafepress that says "According to ff net**, I'm huge in Romania."**

**Happy August everyone!**

The morning after their visit to the house, Scarlett awoke to find herself surprisingly refreshed. Expecting to be haunted by nightmares she fought off sleep. Struggling the entire time to keep her eyes open, Scarlett had stayed up till after two, trying to feign interest in a book borrowed from Rosemary's extensive collection.

Glancing factitively toward her mother's door, Rosemary cautioned not to let Miss Eleanor see what she was reading as the content of the novel was considered more than a little provocative. Her admonishment serving as incentive, Scarlett was initially a little intrigued by the prospect of reading something considered scandalous.

That interest faded in the first three paragraphs once she deduced a floss was a river and that furthermore, she didn't give a damn about some man with a mole and a woman in an unfashionable cap who lived by a river in a mill.

Lying in bed next to Rhett, she skimmed the novel. Deciding the book was not to her taste, she began searching for anything that could be considered risqué. Finally, after coming to the conclusion that Rosemary had lied in an attempt to pique her interest, Scarlett tossed the book onto her bedside table. The force she hurled it away with carried it across the smooth surface and with a clatter; the volume fell to the floor.

In the semi darkness came the sound of Rhett's voice. Shifting on his side of the bed, Rhett rolled over to face her. The low wicking flame of the lamp on her bedside table threw his face into deep relief and once again there was that nagging voice whispering in her ear, _"nothing lasts forever."_

In the dim light his regarded her with naked concern, she could not speak so fixed was she by his unwavering gaze. When he at last spoke, she could hear traces of aggravation in his soft drawl. Still, despite that, the deep timbre of his voice was soft, soothing in a way that was wonderfully familiar, "Go to sleep Scarlett, I'll be here if you need me."

"I know," she acknowledge the promise he was indirectly making, there would never be a time when he would leave her in a time of need again.

"I'm sure you do, still, I thought it would be nice to hear."

"It is."

Once the lamp was extinguished, Rhett moved closer to her. Wrapping her in the shelter of his arms, he lightly pressed a kiss against the nape of her neck. "Good night Scarlett."

"Good night," she murmured, with the expectation that she would be either unable to sleep or if she did, her slumber would be plagued by bad dreams.

But neither scenario came to pass. Instead, she awoke feeling well rested and ready to face the day with a sense of renewed vigor. For the first time in a long time, she felt reconciled with the present state of her body. Some of the pain she normally felt on waking had faded. Now, instead of the grinding flare of pain she would feel when her feet first touched the floor, there was only a dull ache. It saddened her a little, but it did not oppress her sprits as it did before. The pain she now felt was in some ways similar to the aches and pains she'd once felt after a day of working in Tara's fields.

In taking stock of herself, she found that she was better off than she expected to be after coming face to face with a room out of her nightmares. She'd expected to feel weak and wrung out. If she had awoke to the twisting of pain's dull blade in her hip and knee, she would have been resigned. However, nothing could be further from the truth, there was only a sense of euphoria at what she perceived as signs of her impending recovery.

That feeling lasted nearly twenty minutes before she found herself vomiting convulsively into a basin.

The previous evening, she only picked at her dinner. The visit to their future home completely dulled her normally healthy appetite. Since then, hours had passed, leaving her to expel only bile. Each time she thought it passed her nearly empty stomach would contract spasmodically. Clutching the side of the dresser with white knuckled hands, she panted hard, trying to draw in air, all while fighting to keep herself upright.

When her heaving stomach finally settled, Scarlett draped a towel over the basin and its noxious contents. When Penny came, she would have her dispose of it once the family was at the breakfast table. Penny could be trusted to be discreet.

Moving slowly while clutching her stomach with her free hand, a trembling Scarlett made her way to the settee before the fireplace. Feeling the sting of tears behind her eyelids, she blinked back tears. An occasional tremor ran through her body. Taking several shuddering breaths, she pressed her hand against the base of her throat trying to still her racing heart.

Still light headed, her mind raced as she contemplated the meaning of her bout of nausea. She was so deeply engrossed in thought that she never heard the bedroom door open.

A soft distant look settled over her features. Smiling beatifically, Scarlett allowed hope free rein. She was pregnant, this first bout of morning sickness proved it.

They were having a baby. It was early to get her hopes up, far to early to share her suspicions with Rhett, but she knew. As surely as she knew how many pennies were in a dollar, she knew that she was carrying Rhett's child. Clasping her hands before her still flat stomach, she prayed, the only prayer she felt was fitting for a time like this.

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee," she whispered softly, "blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary," her voice broke and she tried again, "Holy Mary..." Her voice trailed off in the still room. "Holy Mary, Mother of God," she whispered, her voice shaking with emotion.

Her clasped hands tightened as her ever practical mind forced her to examine the present situation. Rhett was going to be furious. He didn't want this baby, he'd made that clear as recently as the day before. They made an agreement, one that he was determined to adhere to. Her little victory at the Landing was in the end, incidental. She'd won a skirmish, not a major battle. She'd also made a promise, a devil's bargain to her way of thinking...she'd sworn that she would not pursue the idea of becoming pregnant until she was completely recovered.

Except...her lips curled in a satisfied smile. Except she had gotten pregnant before they made their bargain.

The time of conception was simple to pinpoint. If she was experiencing morning sickness that made her a month gone. And if she was a month along hat meant she'd conceived during their time on the beach after the storm.

The knowledge that a baby had come out of that reckless session of lovemaking made her blush. It was half remembered, somewhat obscured by the events directly preceding it, but the memory of sensations was still with her.

That he regretted that hasty coupling was a fact she was well aware of.

A week ago, holding her against his chest so she could listen to the soothing staccato of his beating heart, Rhett had explained that while she was unconscious at the fort the memory of what they'd done in a moment of exhalation at surviving nearly insurmountable odds haunted him. His voice was quiet and his manner subdued as he told her that he wished they'd waited, that taking her in such a way made him feel as if he'd taken advantage of her while she was hurt and vulnerable.

Trying to naysay his fears she in turn told him how she felt about that night on the beach. The way she recalled things, she had been a very willing, very eager participant. When he made love to her on the beach, he spoke the words that she never thought to hear from him. Whispers of my darling, my love, my life...she heard all these endearments and remembered another night when he made her feel so desired.

On the night of Ashley's party he'd spoken similar words to her. When he took her to bed that night, he made her feel like something more than just a vessel for his base lusts. With kisses and caresses, with words the likes of which she'd never heard before he had made her feel as though there was no one quite like her in all the world. That the way he touched her was something to be enjoyed, something to be reveled in.

Then with only a few words and an air of cool boredom, he destroyed it all. Afterwards, reeling from the pain of being so easily discarded and abandoned, she'd hardened her heart. To cauterize her wounds she convinced herself that she was nothing more than an available body.

With the passing of days, she convinced herself that she'd dreamed it all. Dreamt the way he made her feel so alive. Dreamt the taste of his lips against hers, the scent of his skin as he carefully rested his weight on his outstretched palms so he wouldn't hut her. The way he cried her name in a panting gasp before he finished making love to her.

For so long she had doubted her memories, thinking that alcohol clouded that night in her mind. But, after their time together on the deserted beach, she knew...

Her belief that she was more to him than a body was reborn in those passion filled moments. The certainty that he loved her, that no matter what he'd said to the contrary, he'd never stopped made her feel as if there was no one else in the world that mattered to him as much as she did.

The way he made her feel that night told her everything she would ever really need to know about Rhett Butler. He loved her. It was just as simple and yet as complicated as that. He would love her no matter what. Just as he would love their child, when she finally found the courage to tell him they were expecting.

She wanted to lie to herself, to convince herself that he would accept the news with joy, but in her heart, she knew he wouldn't. Worry would settle over his handsome face and fear would creep into his eyes. And though he would do his utmost to conceal all feelings of trepidation and doubt from her searching gaze, he would worry.

Shaking her head sharply as if to banish her concerns, Scarlett looked toward the brass captain's clock. It was a treasured possession of Rhett's, one of the few material things he'd taken from the house in Atlanta. When he moved to her room it moved in with him. A quarter to eight, she still had forty five minutes to dress before breakfast. Penny would be along any minute.

Resting the flat of her palm against her stomach, she prayed.

She prayed that there was a baby. She prayed that the news of its coming would be welcomed with love and hope. She prayed that by the time her baby came, she would be strong enough to be half the woman Melanie Wilkes had thought her to be.

"Melanie." The name was a whisper, a benediction, a prayer in its own right. Asking for strength, for guidance, for someone to watch over her while she walked a tightrope over disaster.

"Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen."

Whether she was asking for the mother of Christ or the mother of Beau to pray for her was something even Scarlett herself could not say for sure.

**A/N: Ok, with my merry band of sorta kinda beta readers, thanks L-money, my Atlanta PIC, and my PFL :D, this chapter has been the topic of debate since I started it. Yes, it would appear that Scarlett is pregnant. She may be, or, it could be wishful thinking.**

**I know for sure one way or the other. This story has been mapped out for so long, most of it written out in notebooks and in files across two laptops and my desktop. The end has been done for three years.**

**A hint, it ends almost as it begun. My, how vague.**

**How will it all play out, now is the time to make those guesses. I'll be curious when its said and done if anyone saw what was to come.**

**Places your bets ladies and gentleman. Only the house knows for sure, and I'm not telling...**

**Yet.**


	129. Fears

**Confession time. Me and this chapter, we hate each other. We've spent the last few weeks hating each other. It's done. It is what it is. **

**I have to extend thanks to Brandy, Laura, Steph, Alica and Raicheal. Without them, I would have retired from writing GWTW and moved onto Smallville (it returns next week, please God let it be a Lois and Clark heavy final season. It's not so much to ask, is it?)**

**And as always, for Dani because she remembers that time Jason Cross had a light saber...in a fandom far, far away.**

* * *

Yanking out the ribbon that held back her hair, Scarlett shook her head, sending her hair tumbling. Rhett was gone. Where he'd gone, no one knew and so she'd spent breakfast in a constant state of anxiety. Carlen was only able to tell her that Captain Butler didn't even stop to take a cup of coffee in his office before leaving the house. Wherever he'd gone appeared to have taken precedence over breakfast with his family.

By the time she was ready to go down to breakfast Scarlett's nausea had subsided, leaving her feeling wrung out and a little weak. Left to her own devices, she would have gone back to bed, closeted in the inviolable sanctuary of her bedroom. However, that was not to be. In Eleanor Butler's house, not coming down to breakfast was a venial sin, punishable by an hour of probing questions and suspicious glances that stated quite plainly that whatever excuse was being offered was just that, an excuse.

Seated at Eleanor's left, she attempted to contribute to the lively conversation between her mother in law and Ella about a long forgotten cache of doll's clothes that Eleanor was certain was packed away in a trunk in the carriage house.

Penny's entrance into the room brought forth the smell of fried ham and oatcakes from the kitchen. The savory smell of frying ham was cloyingly sweet. . Her still quavering stomach clenched into a tight fist, bile rose in her throat. Trying to take only shallow breaths till the nausea passed, she was only able to wave away Penny when she lifted the coffee pot to pour out for Scarlett. "Tea, Penny,' she managed in a rough voice.

Eleanor laid her hand over Scarlett. "Darling? Are you alright?"

"Fine. Expecting company always makes me nervous," she said feeling a touch of guilt at lying to a woman she so admired. Raising a dark brow slightly to indicate their audience, she added, "Who knows how a visit will go, especially with the company we're expecting."

Understanding flooded into Eleanor's gentle face. Patting the back of her hand lightly, she allowed Scarlett to finish her tea in peace.

Breakfast, she thought with disgust, as she tore through her jewelry case, had been an inequitable disaster. If she were going to conceal her suspected pregnancy from the family until she was sure of it, then she would have to find away to bring herself under control. The only thing she managed to finish at breakfast was a piece of toast and whatever tea she didn't accidentally slosh over into the saucer every time Penny or Carlen entered the room. She was set on edge, as jumpy as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

A small smile came unbidden to her lips. That had been one of Cathleen Calvert's favorite expressions; at least it had been when they were little girls. Cathleen who'd had nearly as many beaux as she, Cathleen who used to know all the best gossip, seemingly before it even happened. It had been Cathleen who joyfully related the many misdeeds of one Rhett Butler, of Charleston, that long age day at Twelve Oaks. If only she could see them now, thought Scarlett wistfully. Cathleen would have proclaimed with great glee that she saw it coming. That she knew it from the way Rhett's eyes followed them up the stairs.

She'd been so angry with Melly when she'd asked Scarlett to invite Cathleen to stay at Tara instead of marrying the Calvert's oversee. At the time, all she could think of was the cost of one more mouth; now she would give anything to see Cathleen again. Cathleen and her had been as close as sisters, even closer when Scarlett considered her relationship with her own sister, Sue.

Where in the world was Cathleen now? Did she have children; was she even still with her wretch of a husband? Poor Cathleen.

Thinking of her only close childhood girlfriend left her to dwell on the other girl's she'd known. Where were any of the girls she attended the Fayetteville Ladies Academy with nowadays? The boys, sadly, she knew the answer to that. Most of them were gone. The few that returned to the country after the war came back as shells of their former selves.

Since Melly died, Scarlett felt as though she was adrift in a world filled with strangers. While alive, Melly was a tie to Scarlett's past, to a time when she was Gerald O'Hara's spoiled eldest daughter, belle of the county and envy of all the unmarried girls. It was only after Melly died that she realized how little she'd appreciated the kinship that existed between them. They had rarely discussed the past, at Scarlett's vehement insistence, but that did not diminish it. Inexplicably tied to one another from their late teens, together they had faced motherhood, war, poverty, and reconstruction together.

Could Rhett understand the undeniable draw she felt toward Ashley Wilkes but not be angered by it? If she needed to, she thought that she could make clear to him what it was she appreciated most about Ashley Wilkes.

It was not the man but rather, what he represented. To her, he was a link, one of her last, to the people she still mourned. Ashley knew all those funny little stories that were only truly amusing if one knew the people in the stories firsthand. Being older than she, in Ashley would be able to add further recollections.

Being in Charleston, listening to Rhett and Sally tell stories about events that occurred before she was even born made her feel isolated. Over the last few months, a steady hunger grew within her. After years of pushing the past to the furthest recesses of her mind, she waned to once again hear stories about the old days in the country before the war. She wanted to hear again about the time Stu and Cade put the bullfrog in Cathleen's sewing basket. Did Ashley remember the summer that Brent and Stu, in a rare bout of creativity, formed a secret society, complete with initiation rituals?

If she remembered correctly, it took Beatrice Tarleton a week to completely rid the twins of the stench of skunk.

How wonderful it would be to tell those stories and others like them to an audience that included someone who'd actually been there.

Just as a child discards what they can neither appreciate nor understand Scarlett had, years before dismissed the old guard's need for one as clinging to ways that were dead and gone. Not being particularly clannish herself, she could never understood why the old guard was so determined to close ranks against those they considered outsiders. With maturity it at last had become clear to her. They wanted to keep something of the past alive in the new world they'd been unwillingly thrust into. Even if it was just a circle of people who shared a collective past, it was enough to be able to tell stories of times passed and men and women who would never be forgotten.

But most of all, she was looking forward to reminiscing about Melly. She wanted to remember Melly with someone who'd known her, really knew her. Rhett knew her as Melanie Wilkes, a great lady, not as just Melly Wilkes who hated spiders but refused to kill them because she felt they had as much right to live as she.

Looking up in the mirror, Scarlett found iridescent traces of tears on her still wan face. Dipping her handkerchief in a glass of water Penny must have left on her vanity table, she gently dabbed away the telltale tearstains.

Reaching a hand up, she smoothed back her hair a little, sighing softly. Dismissing Penny for the morning had been a mistake. Earlier, she'd wanted time to herself in order to allow things to sink in. But now, faced with hair that refused to behave no matter what she did, she wondered if she should admit defeat and have Penny come up to dress her unruly hair?

Pinching her cheeks a little, she lightly twisted the skin to bring some color into her pale face. It was a delicate process, pinching just hard enough to leave a rosy glow of good heath, but not hard enough to bruise or overly redden them.

Admiring the results of her handiwork in the mirror, Scarlett further debated calling for Penny. The girl was consciousness and would be able to execute something simple but flattering without too much fuss. But, before she could decide, a slight change in the way the room felt came to her.

Someone else was in the room with her. She hadn't heard the door open or even a knock, but she knew that she wasn't alone. It wasn't Penny; she always knocked, as did Rosemary. Since the afternoon in which she'd seen more than she should have, Rosemary now pounded on the door of any room in which Rhett and Scarlett might be alone in.

There was only one person in the whole household that would enter without at least a perfunctory knock. Rhett, she concluded. Trying to keep her expression composed, she wondered at herself for having taken so much as a second to consider who it could be. Hell's bell's, she thought, in her entire life she'd only known one person that could move with such stealth.

Still vaguely annoyed at his unexplained absence earlier, Scarlett resisted the urge to get up. "There you are, your mother didn't even know you'd left," she commented idly without turning around. Her voice sounded firm, not at all as though she agonized over his whereabouts for the last hour and a half, "She held breakfast for nearly fifteen minutes before Carlen told her you'd already left."

He remained silent. She could feel his eyes upon her and the temptation to turn and face him nearly overwhelmed her resolve. How well he thought he knew her, she thought peevishly. Making the concession of glancing up at his reflection in her vanity mirror, she asked casually, "Where did you run off to?" She asked wondering if he would answer.

"I went down to the mine offices."

"This early," she asked disbelief straying into her tone, "Is anything the matter?"

"No, everything at the mines is fine."

"Is something else the matter then?"

His voice was soft, but his words were heavy with disdain. "Not particularly. In fact, it feels almost comfortable in a perverse sort of way to slip back into status quo ante."

She refused to allow him to push her into the confrontation he was so obviously attempting to bait her into. "I don't know what you mean by that." She caught his twisty half smile in the mirror. "Would you be so kind as to enlighten me?"

"It means, a return to the way things were before."

His words needed no further explanation. "This is about Ashley," she said, coming straight to the point.

"Isn't everything in our lives? Sooner or later, it all seems to come down to Ashley Wilkes."

Turning now to face him, she sought to reason with him. "It's only for two days, please, for me, do your best to make yourself agreeable."

"You are not my mother Scarlett, you don't need to scold me or remind me to put on my company manners."

"If you'd stop acting like I child I wouldn't have to..." her eyes narrowed slightly, "I'm not scolding you, I'm only asking you for a favor."

"You're right, I apologize," he drawled, "you're too busy preening for the impending arrival of the Honorable Mister Ashley Wilkes to find the time to scold me."

"I was brushing my hair, not preening." He was jealous, she thought fighting back a smile, he was actually still jealous of Ashley Wilkes. Knowing that he was jealous kindled a little thrill of feminine pride. "Come here," she asked, smiling a little. When he made no move to come to her, she entreated him with a sweet smile, "please."

Begrudgingly, he acceded to her request. Handing him the heavy silver backed brush from her vanity; he hesitated for an instant before taking it from her. "The only man I am preening for these days is you."

With measured, even strokes he drew the brush through her heavy hair. The gesture brought back memories, bittersweet ones. Bonnie always insisted that Rhett be the one to brush her hair if it was tangled. Though Scarlett had thrown up her hands at the childish tantrums that ensued if Bonnie was refused, she knew from personal experience why the child insisted so vehemently. Rhett could always be trusted to be gentle. He never tugged or allowed the brush to snag on a tangle. No matter how snarled their locks were, he could be counted on to untangle them with a gentle touch.

"You chose and discarded all those dresses this morning just for me," he commented, glancing toward the pile of discarded frocks thrown over one of her trunks.

Skimming a hand over her shimmering champagne colored silk moiré skirts, Scarlett chuckled a little, pleased to find herself in possession of the upper hand. "No, I discarded several of them because they were still too fancy for Charleston's pinch penny standards, one dress has an ink mark on the cuff curtsey of Miss Rosemary Butler. The ecru one is the one I actually wanted but it is too loose around the waist. I would have asked Penny, but I was afraid she wouldn't have time."

"If I spoke out of turn," he paused mulling over words he seldom spoke aloud, "I apologize." She couldn't see his face, but from his tone of voice, she knew he really was apologizing.

"This was a bad idea, wasn't it?"

"Inviting Beau, no," he replied.

"Don't joke, you know I mean Ashley," she clarified. "You hate him, and if truth be told, he isn't very fond of you." Her hand lifted to her forehead and she began to rub at her temple. The beginning of a headache was emerging and she dreaded its imminent arrival. "I don't know what I was thinking, putting the two of you under the same roof is a recipe for disaster."

Taking pity on her, he allowed the last traces of rancor to drop from his voice. "You were thinking with your heart. You wanted to do something kind for Melanie's son. And, as you've said, its only two days. I suppose I can make the best of this. I suspect that pressing and urgent matters will demand my prolonged attention at the mines."

The need to offer him an explanation left her unwilling to let the topic pass. "Rhett, when I think about Ashley, which isn't even all that often...what I felt for him, when I look at it now, it seems like it all happened a lifetime ago. I don't care for him, not the way I once thought I did. All I feel for him now is fondness and some pity."

"For me, it seems like only yesterday. That's the funny thing about time, its relative. All the hurt and the anger I felt back in Atlanta; its still here, Scarlett. It isn't just gone because you tell me things are different now. It's going to take time for me to fully believe that you won't backslide into idolatry with Ashley Wilkes as your Lord and Savior."

"I thought we'd moved past all of this."

"I said I'd try to move past this. I promise you, I am trying."

"Well, you'd better try harder." She turned to face him, taking the brush from his hand, she set it aside. Capturing his hand in her's, she pulled him closer. " I love you, just you. "What I feel for you, its everything." She hesitated, before trying to put into words what it was she'd known since the previous fall. My love for you, it makes me feel like I'm whole. I feel like nothing is in my way as long as you're in love with me."

"You're trying to convince me Scarlett," he smiled wryly, "it's a shame that education for girls is lacking in this country, you would have made a wonderful statesmen."

"I'm not trying to convince you of anything. I just want you to know things for certain. I felt something for Ashley that a girl would call love, and they only call it love because they don't know any better"

"But you know better now?"

"I do. When I came to love you, and realized that it was love, I could finally tell the difference. Whatever I felt before is nothing when I compare it to this, to now. The past is done. I can't change it. If you keep bringing it up then its part of now. Let it go Rhett, please, just let the past lie."

His lips found hers and without a murmur of protest, her arms went around his neck. His impatient hands began to make short work of her dress. How was it that it took Penny nearly a half an hour to dress her and it only took Rhett five minutes to undress her, she wondered as he undid the tapes that held the padding for her skirt in place.

"Rhett, stop," she tried to push him back alittle, mindful of the houseful of people, "you are going to ruin this dress," she offered weakly.

Swinging her into his arms, he carried her to their bed. "Then you'll have to wear something else."

MMMM

Pushing her now thoroughly mused hair back, Scarlett sat up, pushing another pillow behind her back to support herself.

"You're upset?" He asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

She watched him as he finished his shirt studs. "No. I'm not," she replied truthfully. He thought he was so damned clever, stopping in the middle of making love to her to retrieve one of those stupid rubber sleeves from his top drawer. It wasn't going to make a difference. Like her father used to say, too late to lock the barn door after the horse has gotten out.

A faint, smug smile played on her lips as she stretched her arms over her head. She had outwitted him and could see nothing wrong in savoring her triumph for a moment. But then, her mind began to drift. She could recall the moment when Bonnie was placed into her arms. Looking up at her, with such vivid blue eyes; blue eyes she shared with her grandfather. Unconsciously her lips formed themselves into a soft, distant smile as she drifted.

Rhett glanced at Scarlett from the corner of his eye. Her red lips were curved with a smile he'd only seen on her face twice in his life. On the afternoon he'd asked her to marry him, and today, just now.

"I was going to ask you what you were thinking," he said finally, "but it's obvious. I've seen that smile before."

She made a soft, noncommittal noise. "What did you say Rhett?"

"I don't want to stand in the way of a grand passion. Would you like me to vacate the premises until its run its course once more."

The acid in his words roused her from her daydreams. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't you know what an expressive face you have my dear? Especially when you are lost in thought, then you don't even bother to attempt to cloak your emotions."

There was guilt in her voice and evasion in her eyes as she looked up at him. "Why should I try and hide what I'm thinking from you?" Scarlett asked in a shaky voice.

"I know something about hiding emotions. You can talk till you're blue in the face but it would be a waste of my time and your breath. I know you're concealing something, if not a lingering tendre of love for Mister Wilkes, then something else. What that something else might be still remains to be discovered."

She wrapped one of the sheets around her body, and resting the flat of her palm on the bed, she came to her feet. He was at her side before she could take a single, faltering step.

"I told you I don't love him any more, how many more times do I have to say it. Do you want it written in my blood? I'm sorry that you don't believe it, I'm sorry that everything I say just seems to make you doubt me even more..."

Her body was shaking and the skin at the corner of her mouth was taunt from the strain of keeping her body erect. So she had secrets, he thought, what did it matter, so did he. And chances were, it was his secrets that would destroy their new found trust were they to come to the light of day. Besides, arguing with his barely clad wife just before Ashley Wilkes arrived didn't seem to be the most judicious idea. "I don't give a damn about any of that." Wrapping his arms around her waist, he sat down on the bed, holding her tightly against his chest. He spoke in a low, hoarse whisper. "I don't want to lose you. Not to Ashley Wilkes, not to anyone."

She couldn't tell him what she had been thinking off only moments ago, but wasn't it worse that he thought she was lost in memories of Ashley? Emotions flickered on her face, but there was naked honesty in her voice as she reached out to brush her fingers against his lips. "You will never lose me."

Cupping her chin, he tilted her head back. Looking into her troubled green eyes, he knew her for a liar. No matter how far they came, there would always be things they concealed from one another. "Would you care to explain something to me?"

"Alright." Scarlett's voice was very low; she broke eye contact to glance down at her clasped hands. Her head was beginning to ache, the monster that threatened to consume her was back, gnashing his teeth in gleeful anticipation of staining its claws and fangs with her blood.

"Mother heard you in here earlier, she thought you were crying, was something wrong?"

The soft serenity of her expression was only slightly marred by a pucker forming between her brows. Was it the beginning of another headache? He couldn't tell for sure. They seemed to be returning, increasing in both frequency and severity. He knew that she concealed them when she could but sometimes the abject misery in her eyes told him that she was in the grips of another migraine.

"I had a headache, it's nothing. Once I had some breakfast it started to pass."

A pale ghost of one of his usual mocking smiles tugged at the corners of his mouth. He knew her well after so many years; her denial did not surprise him. The urge to tease her until the worry faded away overcame the desire to probe further. "Are you sorry that I asked you to marry me, that I didn't let you alone as you asked?"

"Why would you ask me that? Do you regret asking me?"

Rhett smiled. "No."

"Just no? No declaration of how happy being married to me has made you?"

"Being married to you has made me many things; frustrated, infuriated..."

"There had better be a but coming."

Laughing softly to himself, he moved back against the pillows, taking her with him. Reaching out to trace her lips with the tip of his little finger, he smiled when she kissed his fingertip. From the first time he'd seen her purse her lips in that offended pout of hers they had always enticed him. In his dreams before that night on the rough and ready he'd thought about what it would be like to kiss her until she didn't know how to do anything else but wrap her arms around his neck and offer herself to him.

The faint scent of the lavender she packed in her travel trunks clung to the dresses piled on her trunk, scenting the room. Through the thin fabric of the sheet twined around her body he felt her heart beat against his. His senses overwhelmed him. He needed her again, needed to touch her, to reassure himself that he was truly the only man she had ever fully loved.

"If he looks at you in that covetous, hangdog way of his," he said calmly, "I will personally throw him out of this house."

Brushing his fingertips over her face, he made her close her eyes. Gently, he traced her lips with his, before moving the sheet away from her body. Scarlett's formerly pale skin flushed with pleasure. Wanting only to please her, he passed his hand over her rounded shoulders, tracing the slope of her shoulder blade before skimming the tips of his fingers across her back.

"Rhett, we don't have time for this," she admonished lightly, not bothering to open her eyes.

"For this?" He asked, putting emphasis on the word this, "Scarlett, we will always have time to make love."

"If I asked you something, would you tell me?"

He stopped his leisurely exploration of her body. "What do you want to know?"

"Did you ever dream about me, when you were here and I was in Atlanta?" There was still sorrow in her dark green eyes and he wanted to banish it with kisses and caresses but that wasn't what she wanted, not this time. She wanted understanding and consideration.

Looking back to the first time he saw her at Twelve Oaks, he realized how little understanding or consideration he'd ever given her. She had been sad and confused, angered at developments beyond her control. He'd understood all too well how she felt for he'd felt the same way at her age. In the library he'd wanted to make her understand that, but instead he had allowed himself to tease her. How different their lives might have been if he'd only been kinder at that first meeting.

Reaching out, he rubbed his thumb across the small crease between her brows. "Did you dream about me?"

"I asked you first."

"True, but I refuse to answer. I would be embarrassed to admit just how often I found you invading my dreams."

She smiled. "Thank you."

"For?"

She ducked her head a little, embarrassed, but when she smiled, his eyes lit up. Knowing that even if he would tease her late for saying it, he needed to hear the words straight from her lips. "For loving me."

"You," he said, kissing her, "are very welcome."

* * *

Her dress had been salvageable after all. After helping her back into it, Rhett saw to her hair, helping her to gather it into a black ribbon chignon pinned at the base of her scalp.

Sneaking one last glace in the mirror she was pleasantly surprised. Her cheeks had gained a rose hued flush, a flush that she was fairly certain had nothing to do with her early pinching.

"You look beautiful," Rhett told her.

"Are you just saying that?" She asked coyly, her lashes veiling her eyes.

"I may say a great many things I don't mean, but I have never paid you a false complement. I'm not that kind of man," he said with a grin.

"What sort of a man are you?"

"I'll tell you when you're older." Before she could reply, he withdrew a rectangular leather box from his pocket. Opening it to the left of her head, he tilted it so she could see the contents in the mirror's reflection.

On the dove gray velvet interior was a necklace that could have only be described as a masterpiece. Over the years she'd received many pieces of jewelry from Rhett, while most of the pieces were valuable and of good quality this piece was different. It was worthy of an empress. The centerpiece of the necklace was a flawless pear shaped emerald cradled in a setting that resembled an upside down heart. Tiny diamond chips were set into the white gold of the setting, flashing brilliantly in the bright sunlight that lit the room. Even the marquis length chain had diamonds imbedded in it. "That stone, its not paste, is it?" She asked finally finding her voice.

Satisfied with her awed response, he smiled. "No, its nearly twenty carets, the diamonds are also real, in case you were wondering."

"Where did it come from? It's too fine to come from any of the shops here."

"It was in my safe in the Atlanta house."

"How long have you had it?"

"Several years."

"Oh," was all she could think of to say.

"I was going to give it to you the night you banished me from your room. It was a gift from the heart; I wanted to give you something to show how happy I was with the baby, with having a family. I'd bought the emerald when I bought your engagement ring in England. When I returned to the states, I had it set by a firm in Baltimore. It arrived a few days after Bonnie was born."

"It's magnificent," she said reverently.

Removing it from the box, he moved to fasten it around her neck.

"No," she reached out and caught his hand, "wait." He'd never given her the necklace because of all the lies, large and small that she'd told him. Why hadn't she been honest with the both of them? His leaving her bed had left her bereft in a way she could never have anticipated. If she had gone to him, swallowed her pride and told him that she missed him, he might have returned.

"What is it?" The hand that held his was shaking. Whatever she had to say was tearing her apart. Snapping the lid closed, he carelessly tossed the box on the vanity as though it contained nothing of value.

Her hands twisted helplessly in her lap. "I have to tell you something." She lifted her face, she was pale and there was a queer, near frantic glow in her eyes unlike anything he'd ever seen before. "I lied to you. I lied about why I don't want to live in the new house." The truth came tumbling from her lips, in a narrative sometimes broken by tears and shudders she told him about the dreams she'd once had about losing him, about the dream in which she'd come face to face with her own mortality in a room nearly identical to the second floor sitting room.

When she finally finished, he offered her his handkerchief. "Scarlett," he began, speaking to her just as he would to a frightened child, "why didn't you ever tell me about these dreams. You told me about the other dream, about searching through the mist, why couldn't you tell me about this?"

"I didn't want to say it out loud, besides," she sniffled a little, blowing her noise quietly she shrugged, "I was afraid you'd laugh at me. You do that sometimes, laugh at me when I need you not to."

He flinched as if she'd struck a physical blow. "Do I do that often?"

"No,' she admitted begrudgingly," but I never can tell when you will and when you won't. Besides, I only had that dream a handful of times over the years. The other night was the first time I'd ever dreamed about my own..." She made the sign of the cross swiftly.

The smile on his lips piqued her annoyance. "Before you accuse me of poking fun, I wasn't going to. I think it's nice that some habits remain no matter how you've grown up."

"You think I'm silly for not wanting to live in the house?"

"Not silly per say, I can't blame you for being disconcerted when faced with a house you believed to have seen in your dreams."

"I did see it in my dreams," she insisted.

"I'm not denying the possibility, it just seems..."

"You think I'm crazy."

"I don't think you're..."

"You do. The way you're looking at me I wouldn't be surprised if you weren't planning to send me off to some madhouse till I come to my senses."

"Scarlett. I believe you had dreams that disturbed you. You've been to Charleston before, you're familiar with the style of houses. You've had to wear black more than any ten people should in then span of only a few years. It's no wonder your mind wove all those details into a nightmare."

"It's more than that," she argued.

"I don't plan on leaving you for a very long time."

"No one plans to leave, they just do."

"You know that the odds are good you'll outlive me, it's a simple fact of life."

Childishly, she lifted her hands, covering her ears. Deftly, but gently he removed her hands. She turned pleading eyes on him, begging him silently not to voice what she knew to be true. It was true that she would most likely outlive him. That she would be the one left behind once more.

"Don't. Please don't. I can't bear it. I don't want to even talk about it, do you understand me!"

"I understand the reluctance, but put it aside and let me see that practical nature of yours. Next week you and I are going to sit down with my solicitor. I want to know that you'll never have to worry about money again. We'll finalize the title to the new house. I'll have Aubrey take you through my holdings so you'll know what is yours."

"I don't care about any of that."

"You should. For your own sake and the children's. I've put money and properties in trust for both of them. You'll manage them until Wade is of age and Ella marries. I have complete faith that you'll be an adept manager."

Scarlett nodded mutely, unable to allow herself to consider a life without him. She looked at him and reached out her arms. Silently, he moved toward her, gathering her in his arms. When their lips met, it was with a passion so deep that he was left shaken by the intensity of his love for her. Her slim body trembled in his arms as she returned his kiss with a fervor equal to his own.

For a long time they closed the world out, existing only to love and be loved by one another.


	130. Ashley

**I usually try to answer my signed reviews but I am leaving for Florida in the afternoon. I have never gone to Florida for anything fun, its always some sort of family emergency. Wish me luck and a safe flight. So not a happy flyer...unless I am on the purple disco plane with my PFL, right Dani?**

* * *

Skimming the papers before him, Rhett heard the front door slam open. Light, running steps thudded down the hall past his office toward the doors off the breakfast room. Hearing the excitement in Wade's voice as he spoke to Scarlett out on the side porch, Rhett knew who must have arrived. Rising from his desk, he made his way to his office door. In the foyer, speaking to Carlen, was Ashley Wilkes.

It was something of a shock to see Ashley Wilkes in his mother's home, though Rhett dismally. In a perfect world, Ashley would have never crossed the threshold of a house in which Rhett resided. But sadly, the world was a less than perfect place, as was evidenced by the arrival of the previous center of Scarlett's world.

There was tension in Ashley's stance. Evidently, he was no happier at being in Charleston then he was to have him there. "Is Mrs. Butler at..."

"Mr. Wilkes," Rhett said, standing in his office door.

One slim hand, still bearing a wedding ring came to rest on Beau's shoulder as he turned to face Rhett. "Captain Butler," returned Ashley formally. "Beau, say hello."

Smiling, the boy began to step forward, but the hand on his shoulder tightened slightly. Given his father a quizzing look, Beau's smiled wavered a little. "Hello Uncle Rhett, where is everyone?"

Walking past Rhett to join his uncle and cousin, Wade smiled cajolingly at his stepfather, hoping that the two most important men in his world could put aside the enmity between them aside for just a few days. "Mother asked me to bring Uncle Ashley and Beau out to her."

Seeing them together for the first time in over a year, Rhett drew parallels between Beau and Wade's features; the shape of their mouths, the gentle good humor in their soft brown eyes identified them as descendents of Melly and Charles Hamilton. The two boys shared blood, even in the way they stood; they carried themselves in similar manners.

There were similarities too between Wade and Ashley. It pained Rhett to admit it, but Wade was undeniably a member of Ashley's family. The way Wade smiled benignly when his mind was elsewhere, that was a trait surely inherited from his father's family. Scarlett's expressions always betrayed her. Wade, unlike his mother, could close himself off to the prying eyes of the outside world.

Coming back to the present, Rhett found the small party in the hall regarding him with curiosity. "Beau," said Rhett, his voice warm now, "it's good to see you again. Wade, why don't you take your cousin up to your room and show him where he can put his things."

"But mother said..."

"Wade." The quiet authority in Rhett's voice gave Wade pause. The smile did not leave Rhett's his face, but nothing in his expression encouraged disobedience.

A slow flush crept up turning the tips of the boy's ears pink. "Yes sir. Come on Beau, mother bought you something. It's in my room."

Waiting till he heard their steps on the upstairs landing before he addressed Ashley, Rhett smiled sardonically, gesturing toward his office. "I'd like a moment of your time."

Running a hand through his silver hair, Ashley nodded. "I won't stay long, I just wanted to see Wade and Scarlett. Once I settle Beau in, I plan on going over to the hotel."

"Music to my ears," muttered Rhett under his breath as he closed his office door. Scarlett was sitting outside with his mother, something he considered a happy coincidence. Though he felt he'd made himself heard during their exchanges in Atlanta, Rhett wanted to make it clear to Ashley Wilkes that he would not allow him to upset Scarlett or put her into a situation that might shame her in front of his family.

"I trust," said Rhett, seating himself behind the desk and gesturing for Ashley to take the chair in front of it, " that you haven't forgotten what we discussed before in Atlanta."

"We spoke of many things."

Withdrawing a cigar, he clipped it. Lighting it, he drew on it, making Ashley wait through the ceremony. "We did, nearly all of them pertaining to Scarlett. You told me that last year you urged her to accept a divorce. Once she was, how did you put it, free of me, you planned on asking her to leave Atlanta. Where was your final destination?" His expression was open, that of an old friend, welcoming a confidence.

There was something in Rhett's face, a look he'd seen before, but never bothered to consider. This was a man who was defending what he held dear. That he loved Scarlett, there was no question of that. If he considered that love still further, it seemed that Rhett was slowly transferring the obsessive, all consuming love he'd once felt for his late daughter to the child's mother. Deciding to tread carefully, Ashley shrugged lightly.

"Does that really matter now? I told you, I was mistaken. I've had letters from Scarlett since she arrived. Things between the two of you have improved significantly. You told me something similar when I last saw you."

"They have indeed. When she first asked about having Beau for a visit, it was my original suggestion that I bring Beau here. Don't misunderstand, it wasn't an offer made to save you the trip to Charleston. I made it because I don't want you here. Not in this house, hell, not even in this city. Speaking of cities," he smiled but it did not reach his eyes, "damn this idle curiosity of mine. I still am wondering, where was it that you would have taken Scarlett?"

"I don't know if I gave it much thought beyond the idea of taking her away from Atlanta. That was the most important thing, I wanted her to be somewhere where she could be herself."

It was then that they heard her laughter from outside. Ashley's face softened and his eyes instinctively moved toward the large windows behind Rhett's desk as if searching for a glimpse of Scarlett.

"How much of the idea did you share with Beau, beyond the general idea of you marrying his Aunt?" Though his face remained smooth and unreadable, anger was there, simmering just below Rhett Butler's cold, impenetrable mask.

"Where Beau got the idea from that I could marry Scarlett, I don't know. It was not from me. I never told anyone that I considered courting Scarlett."

"Courting, that makes adultery sound almost palatable."

"Children sometimes wish for things," said Ashley intently, "things that seem to their minds to make sense. In Beau's mind, his mother loved Scarlett best. That makes her an acceptable candidate for the position of his mother. Also, into the bargain, she would bring Wade and Ella. Beau is lonely. India tries her best, but she isn't very maternal. He loves Pitty but she tends to smother him. Beau loves Scarlett, the idea of having a mother again, gaining a brother and sister as well? It seems an outlandish proposal to you and I, but to Beau, it made sense. His Aunt was alone, so was his father. Why shouldn't they marry?"

As much as he hated to admit it, Ashley made a valid point. To a ten year old boy the idea of his favorite aunt marrying his father was a sound proposal. They would have been one happy family. His heart went out to Beau except there had been a fatal flaw in the boy's logic from the outset. Scarlett was not available. "He understands now that his aunt is not alone? I do not want him to make a comment in all innocence that would set Charleston on fire. Scarlett, in spite of a rough start, has found a measure of acceptance in Charleston. She had friends; she's even found a few women to champion her. These women take her for who she is and even laud her for it. I don't want anything or anyone to jeopardize that."

"I've explained to him that what he wanted was impossible. I've also explained that mentioning it would hurt his aunt deeply. He loves her very much."

"It would seem that loving Scarlett is a common trait amongst the Wilkes men."

The finely boned, aristocratic face of Ashley Wilkes hardened briefly. So swiftly did the expression pass over his face that Rhett would have missed it were he not studying his adversary so intently.

"Struck a nerve?" Enquired Rhett genially.

"No," said Ashley. A bleak distance grew in his haunted eyes. Rhett could see that Ashley Wilkes was somewhere far away. In Rhett's mind, there was no doubt that it was not a pleasant place.

An integrating smile sprang to Rhett's lips. "Charles wasn't a Wilkes, but Scarlett said the two of you were close. Was it strange to see her married to your cousin knowing full well that she'd rather it were you?"

Ashley glared at him, his lips parted before he could stop himself. "Charlie worshipped the ground she walked on. She made him very happy. Considering what happened in the end, I've always been glad that my cousin knew such happiness. I never begrudged him that happiness."

"He was only happy because he didn't truly know Scarlett," observed Rhett sagely, "I imagine he would have been quite the miserable fellow had he lived long enough to come to know her as more than a prize to be won."

"He never saw her that way," countered Ashley defensively.

"No?" Questioned Rhett mildly. "Then how did he see her?"

"Why does that matter?"

"Because what I said just now, about it being a common trait, you flinched. I'd like to know why. Do you know Sun Tzu, the Chinese general?"

"Yes," answered Ashley, confused at the random twists and turns of his interview with Rhett.

"He once wrote if you know your enemies and know yourself, you will fight without danger in battles. If you only know yourself, but not your opponent, you may win or may lose. If you know neither yourself nor your enemy, you will always endanger yourself."

"I'm not your enemy."

"You sure as hell aren't my ally."

"This is ridiculous," exclaimed Ashley.

"Who else wanted Scarlett?"

"Most of the county that was male and under the age of seventy."

Seeing the humor in his statement, Rhett allowed himself a genuine smile. "Well played. Another cousin?"

"No."

"I know you have two sisters, any brothers? A widowed uncle?"

The gray eyes turned cold. "The subject of past contenders for Scarlett's affections has grown tedious. I would like to pay my respects to her, was there anything further?"

Satisfied that he'd sufficiently disconcerted Ashley, Rhett was willing to let the subject drop. "Yes. She is happy. I intend for her to stay that way. No noble apologies, no painful reminds of a past best left buried. Hurt her and I will kill you."

"I know that I've told you this before, but I care for her. Deeply. I never set out to hurt her."

"And yet, since she was sixteen years old, that's all you've done. Hurting her is one of the few things in life you seem to excel at."

His gray eyes met Rhett's cold, angry gaze. "I never wanted to hurt her, on my honor I didn't. I just didn't know how to turn her away," he admitted softly.

"If that's true then make this as pleasant a visit as possible, by making it brief."

Coming to his feet, Ashley's hands balled loosely. "Suddenly, you are Scarlett's champion? It's almost laughable. The one man who single handedly did the most damage to her reputation. You who made her so conspicuous after Charlie died. You think you know yourself, I doubt you do at all. If you did, it wouldn't have taken you so long to treat Scarlett as you always should have, with kindness."

He laughed his sudden mocking laugh. "Sometimes Scarlett prefers it when I am less than kind."

The crudity of his barb was not lost on Ashley. He sprang to his feet, hands clenched at his side. "Go to hell."

Leisurely, Rhett made his way around the desk till the two men were face to face. "I'll let you have the first punch. Although, you'd better make it count, because after that it will be my turn."

Glancing down, he relaxed his hands, pressing them flat against his legs. "I am not about to resort to physical violence."

"You're sure?"

"What would it accomplish? I've seen enough violence to last me the rest of my life."

"How nobly put."

"Do you think Scarlett would approve, us beating each other to a pulp?"

A quick grin appeared on his swarthy face. "Two men fighting over her? I believe she'd not only approve, she'd encourage it." Opening the door, he gestured, "If you'll follow me."

They walked in silence out onto the patio. Clearing his throat lightly, Rhett caught Scarlett's attention. She looked up, a challenging smile on her red lips, but before it could reach her eyes, she saw Ashley.

"Ashley," she said, her voice nearly breaking. Surely this wasn't Ashley Wilkes? Not this broken, tired old man that stood there regarding her so fondly. His golden hair was still as thick and shinning as it had been the day he'd returned from his grand tour but now the gleaming gold was gone, replaced with silver. In the six months since she'd left for Charleston, he had aged considerably. The golden prince she'd dreamed of for years was gone. Swallowing her shock, she smiled again. He'd come to see her and she was glad, in spite of his appearance that he had. Ignoring the alert interest on Rhett's face she allowed warmth to find its way into her voice. "Ashley, its so good to see you."

Moving past Rhett without so much as a glance, he went to Scarlett. "Scarlett," he took her hand, squeezing it lightly. "How is it that in a world where everything is in constant flux, you alone remain the constant? You are as beautiful now as the day I returned home from the tour."

"That isn't true, when you returned from the tour I still had freckles on my nose," she teased gently, "as you can see, they are gone now."

"How are you," he asked, concern for her evident in his anxious gaze.

It almost didn't seem fair somehow. For years she'd prayed that one day she would see loving concern and devotion in those tranquil gray eyes. Now everything she'd once wished for was finally there and she could only wish that he would never again complicate things between them with unwelcome declarations.

Squeezing his hand, she gave him a reassuring look. "Fine now." Whatever it was that he hoped to find in her eyes was absent. A wistful smile came to his lips and nodding a little, the tense set of his shoulders relaxed.

His face was still tired, but some of the worry seemed to leave it. He knew now, seeing her, face to face, that she was happy. And in spite of what Rhett Butler thought of him, he did indeed care deeply about Scarlett. Knowing that she was finally happy at last, loved and cherished as she deserved to be, he could let go of any foolish dreams that he might have still harbored.

When he spoke again, it was the voice of the boy she'd grown up with. The boy who had played games with her, had shared silly confidences with her. In the content smile and tranquil gray eyes she found her past. "Pitty and Henry send their love. Pitty sent you something, its in Beau's valise."

"That was sweet of her," with a wicked sparkle in her eyes, she asked, "and what about India? Doesn't she send her regards?"

Ashley smiled. "What do you think?"

"I think that she was disappointed to have missed the opportunity to dance on my grave."

"That's not a very nice thing to say," he said.

"Maybe not, but I don't hear you denying it."

"Touché."

"Ashley," Scarlett glanced at her mother and sister in law. Both women were observing the pair with matching looks of interest and in Eleanor's case, an air of discomfort. Who could blame her, thought Scarlett, the man who was had been the rival for her daughter in law's affections was now in her home. "Ashley, I'd like to introduce you to Rhett's mother, Eleanor Butler."

Ashley took Eleanor's hand, bowing over it. Once again the sunlight caught his formerly golden hair. Oh Ashley, she thought, how could the golden prince she'd known all her life have aged so dramatically? If Melly could see him now her heart would break at how tired and drawn he looked. Little wonder, living with India and Pitty as he presently was. Between Aunt Pitty's fainting spells and India's tightlipped, snobbish ways it was a wonder Ashley didn't look even worse than he already did.

Selling the house on Ivy Street had been so foolish, Scarlett thought. When she'd pressed for a reason why he'd told her that he just couldn't continue to live in the house where he'd once been so happy. Privately Scarlett thought it was more a case of Ashley couldn't bear to live alone. Some people were like that, completely without gumption.

"And this is Rosemary, Rhett's sister."

Taking her hand, Ashley bowed politely. "How do you do Miss Butler?"

A speculative look was in Rosemary's dark eyes as she studied Ashley. Shifting her gaze, she caught Scarlett's eye. It was plain to see that Rosemary was comparing Ashley to Rhett and had found Ashley sufficiently lacking. "Very well thank you. How long will you be staying in Charleston?"

"Rosemary!" Scarlett's green eyes were narrowed, glinting ominously.

"I was just asking," huffed Rosemary.

Seeking to head off a spat, Ashley told them that he would be staying only over night. The following afternoon he would take the train to Colombia to stay with friends of his from the Tour.

"You went on the tour," asked Rosemary, her interest suddenly piqued, "where did you go, what was it like?" She continued to chatter excitedly. "I've wanted to go to Europe but with the war and then father passing on, it just wasn't possible."

"Many place, Rome was my favorite. It's beautiful, like no where else in the world."

Even Rhett smiled appreciatively. "I've always enjoyed Rome. Did you tour the seven hills?" He asked politely.

"I did. However, I was unable to spend very long there. It was the last stop and from there I returned home. I hoped to return one day but then the war began and after that..." he trailed off.

The conversation might have taken a dreary turn from there but before they could continue, Penny appeared in the door.

"Miss Scarlett has a visitor. I know you have company, but it's a priest."

"A priest," murmured Scarlett hopefully. "Maybe it's about Tara."

A slight frown creased his brow before it disappeared. "Maybe."

"Don't sound so hopeful. Penny, bring the father out. I'll see him out here."

Rising from her chair with the aid of her cane, Scarlett fixed a sweet tempered, welcoming smile on her face. It seemed to good to be true, but perhaps the archbishop had accepted her offer on Careen's share of Tara. At the very least, the priest might be an emissary bearing an invitation to an audience with the elusive archbishop.

"Father, it was good of yo..." The priest stepped onto the patio out of the shadowed entrance to the house. Meeting his twinkling blue-eyed gaze, she felt her heart twist painfully in her chest. "Pa," she whispered, hardly hearing Ashley's stunned murmur of "Mister O'Hara", before she fainted.


	131. Colum

**Round of thank you's. **

**Steph, there wouldn't be a chapter without you. Thank you for reading it so many times it seemed like a dream. **

**Sassyani and Blaquecat13. Wow, that's all I can say. Every chapter reviewed in a matter of days, that is outstanding. Thank you for the complete dedication.**

**My PFL this April, the town will never be the same after uber birthday week 2009. One for the ages.**

* * *

Lunging forward, Ashley caught her around the waist before she could fall to the flagstone floor. Her head lolled at a nearly unnatural angle. With fear in his eyes, Rhett took Scarlett from Ashley, swinging her up into his arms. The two men exchanged a single look; dark eyes meeting gray, for once in their lives they were in complete accord. Their rivalry was temporarily on hold. All that currently mattered was the wan, fragile woman cradled in Rhett's arms.

Carrying her into the house, he immediately went to his office. Careful not to jar her, he placed her on the sofa. From the corner of his eye, he saw a throw pillow seemingly hovering in mid air. Without bothering to look up, he accepted the pillow from Ashley. Murmuring something meant for Scarlett's ears alone, Rhett moved the hair back from her face before pressing the tips of his fingers against the pulse in her throat.

The contrast between his skin, flush with warmth and health and her pale, bloodless flesh stilled his movements, rendering him impotent. Hands that were so usually sure and precise in their movements were now reluctant to continue; hesitant to do anything further that might harm her.

"Should we send for a doctor," asked Ashley quietly.

"No, not just yet. I think she's coming around," he replied, the rancor usually present in his voice when addressing Ashley Wilkes was missing.

It seemed like hours to the small group assembled in the study but in reality only a few minutes passed before her eyes flickered open. Looking around her, a dazed expression on her face, she reached out, groping blindly before Rhett took her hand in his.

Her brow wrinkled as she tried to recall the circumstances leading to her present situation. "Rhett, it was the strangest thing," she began softly, "I dreamt that we were all outside. Ashley and Beau had just arrived and then I saw my father standing there, just as if he were still alive. It seemed so real, I was so sure he was really here." She struggled to sit up; pushing Rhett's restraining hand back, she looked around till she found whom it was she was searching for. Standing in the door, regarding her with worry was the short, stout, white haired man with her father's deep blue eyes. Blinking back tears that burned, Scarlett asked hesitantly, "Who are you?"

"I'm Colum O'Hara," he replied. Ireland was present in his lyrical voice; the soft vowels and lyrical inflection were so like Gerald's that she was still not completely convinced that in a moment of weakness she hadn't conjured up an apparition of her father. "I am a priest, I'm also your cousin. I'm sorry to have upset you. Here I come, unannounced, and I give you a terrible turn."

Listening closely as he spoke, she could start to distinguish the differences between her cousin's voice and her father's. Gerald's voice had picked up traces of the south after his many years in America, while Colum's accent was less influenced but still, the similarities far outweighed the differences. "No, I'm the one who's sorry. It's just that you're so like my father. It's been so long since he passed, your appearance startled me."

The raw, turbulent emotions on Scarlett's face were poignant. Her eyes, misted by unshed tears, devoured Colum's face as if she expected any minute to wake from a dream. Since coming to Charleston, Eleanor thought she'd seen Scarlett completely exposed, but this was different. In this moment, all of her natural defense had been stripped away leaving only the essential Scarlett.

Taking Rosemary's arm, Eleanor gently nudged her daughter toward the study door. "Rosemary, Mister Wilkes, why don't we go back outside. You've come a long way Mister Wilkes, perhaps I could offer you some coffee or tea?"

"Scarlett..." began Ashley.

"I'm fine," she said, her eyes not leaving Colum's face, "why don't you go outside with Miss Eleanor and Rosemary. Rhett and I will be out in a little while."

"If you're sure..." conceded Ashley reluctantly.

"Positive. Go on, please."

Once they were alone, Rhett pulled a chair next to the couch. "Won't you sit down Father," he asked, taking Scarlett's hand once more.

Trying to compose herself, Scarlett asked Rhett for a glass of water. Using those few moments she was able to blink back the tears that has been pooling in the corners of her eyes. Beneath a guise of what she hoped now appeared to be nothing more than polite interest; Scarlett smiled prettily, her dimples deepening. "You said you were a cousin, which of my uncles was your father?"

"Darby. He was the third oldest of grandma Katie's brood after James and Andrew. I'd know you anywhere for an O'Hara; you've her green eyes. And the O'Hara chin," he added with a knowing smile.

Tilting the aforementioned chin down, a black brow quirked over the sparkling green eyes she couldn't help but smile. "Is that a polite way of saying I appear to be stubborn?"

"Certainly not," he replied, the familiar twinkle in his clear blue eyes made her want to laugh and cry in the same moment, "it's a handsome chin to have inherited, and why the O'Hara chin is the envy of the County Meath is plain to see when it appears on a face such as your own."

"If the resemblance to my father didn't convince me you were kin to him, your love of the blarney would. May I ask what's brought you here to see me?"

"You may indeed ask and I'm happy to answer. I've come to bring happy tidings. Your second cousin, Megan called Meggie for Cousin Rose had a Megan before her, had a baby, and a fine baby it is. A little girl with hair already the color of a tomato but otherwise she's a picture. She's to be christened Sunday next and I'm to do the honors. It'll be a grand affair and we're all hoping you'll attend."

A small smile turned the corners of Rhett's lips up. "Her ears, are they like her mother's?"

"They are," replied Colum sharing a secretive smile, "they are indeed, lucky little lass."

"Why do I feel as though I am missing something," inquired Scarlett suspiciously.

"Because you are," grinned Colum.

Unable to resist his amiable grin, she returned it. "I didn't even know I had any O'Hara kin in Charleston. How did you know I was here in Charleston in the first place?"

"Maureen, that's my half sister, thought as much. You'll see her at the Christening. She's to stand godmother to the babe, a great enough honor for her to make the trip here from Savannah for she travels very little if she can help it. As for how we found out you were here, a little bird told us."

"Little bird?" She racked her mind, finally admitting defeat. "Who?"

"Said the owl," he teased lightly, "the father of the baby is a young man named Josh. He in turn works for a fine man, an extraordinarily generous man who gave him the week off, with pay, when he heard Josh had a first baby coming."

"How very generous indeed," murmured Scarlett, knowing it was what Colum would wish to hear all the while thinking Josh's employer was a fool. A week off with pay, that was unheard of. And for a baby? Outside of the doctor, what good was a man around when a baby was being born, she thought trying not to roll her eyes.

"Aye, tis very generous. Actually, I think you know him,' said Colum solemnly.

Scarlett felt her palms grow damp, please God she prayed hastily, let it be anyone but Middleton Courtney she thought. Lifting the O'Hara chin, she asked softly, "Do I?"

"You do, his name is Rhett Butler",

Relief shot through her, relief that soon turned to curiosity. "You? You knew I had family here in Charleston but you never mentioned a word about it," she said, looking at him curiously.

"Slipped my mind," replied Rhett somberly, "besides, I wouldn't want you to think I'd gone soft on my employees. Next thing I'd know, you'd be planning hostile takeovers of my holdings."

"Ha, ha," she chuckled dryly before turning her attention back to her cousin. "When did, Meggie it was, have her baby?"

"February 26th."

Squeezing Rhett's hand, she smiled a little at him, understanding entering her eyes. "I was ill then." He laid his own hand over her's. The warmth of his hand distracted her, and from his seat, Colum watched them, approving of the undeniable bond between his cousin and her husband.

"So, will you do Meggie the honor of attending?" He asked, attempting to bring the conversation back around to the reason for his impromptu visit. "The rest of the ladies are in a flutter because Josh thought it might be overstepping to invite the wife of his employer to the christening."

"Oh no, please make sure he knows that isn't so."

"Not to worry, Maureen and I said that wasn't so. You're Uncle Gerry's own girl, his favorite girl if my memory serves me. Uncle James and Uncle Andrew are coming, bringing a whole gaggle of cousins along with them. It'll be a grand affair; the uncles would be disappointed if you weren't there. I hope you'll say yes."

"Of course I say yes. Is Rhett invited too?"

"Aye. And you've children, don't you? Your little boy I remember as a babe himself, when you came to Savannah years ago."

Perplexed, she asked, "I met you then? I don't recall."

"I saw you only for a few minutes then, I was one my way out as you were on your way in. Before that however, years before that, I met you when you couldn't have been more than four. Uncle Gerry brought you to Savannah."

"I met you with pa in Savannah? I don't really remember it very well, why were we there?"

"Grandfather O'Hara had died suddenly," he paused then, waiting for her to say something, but when he was satisfied that she was not, he continued. "The Savannah O'Hara's wanted to hold a service in his honor. None of the uncles could go to Ireland. Uncle James was very sick and Uncle Andrew couldn't leave the store. Uncle Gerry couldn't...didn't find out till it was too late to book passage to Ireland. The three sons had a mass said for his Grandfather's soul. Uncle Gerry was so proud of you; I think he really just wanted to show you off so that's why he brought you along." His brow wrinkled, but then he remembered something that he thought might prod her memory. "Do you remember when you came to see me at the rectory and ate your weight twice over in seed cake."

Rhett chuckled a little at one more example of Scarlett's penchant for overindulging but she ignored him. It was hazy, but she did remember the cake part. Colum, she could not clearly recall, but she did remember a woman who plied her with treats till she felt a little sick.

It had been a lovely afternoon, at least the part she could recall. The woman with the severe hairstyle had repeatedly told her how pretty she was. Flattery like that that stuck out in her mind. Allowing her mind to wander still further, something else came to her mind, how happy the woman was to have her there. "I think I remember that. Your house keeper was named Rosie?"

Colum laughed. "Do you know, I've never heard the formidable Mrs. Fitzpatrick called Rosie, though since her name is Rosaleen, I shouldn't wonder if she asked the prettiest little girl any of us had ever seen to call her Rosie." Colum's expression became guilty. "Do you remember when your father and I lost you?"

"Lost me? No, I don't remember that. Maybe you've confused me with another cousin. Pa was always very careful, even in Jonesboro he never let me out of his sight."

"I'm ashamed to be telling you this but we did. Of course, trusting a bachelor priest and your father to keep an eye on a rambunctious little girl such as yourself was a recipe for disaster," he told her, raising his heavy brows, "you were a terror, off running before either of us knew what was what." He moved a little in his seat, crossing his legs before continuing, "We'd taken you out to the old Bonaventure Plantation ruins. I wanted to show your father because of some silly reason that made sense at the time

Watching her cousin speak, Rhett knew the man was lying. Being an excellent liar himself, he was able to pinpoint the little tells that people allowed to creep into their mannerisms when they were in the midst of a lie. Colum was concealing something; there had been other little slips in the conversation, slips concerning Scarlett's father.

"While we were walking you ran ahead. I suppose we were busy catching up and we let you get too far ahead. Then the mist started to roll in off the creek that runs along the property. It was so foggy we couldn't find you for at least ten minutes. When we did find you, your da thought he'd be in a world of trouble. You were in tears and we could hardly get a word from you that wasn't about the fog."

Swallowing a little around the lump forming in her throat, Scarlett spoke softly, hesitantly as she betrayed a confidence nearly twenty-five years old. "Pa begged me not to mention it to mother. He told me she would be upset, and that we shouldn't upset her. He told me never to mention it again, not to anyone. I think," she swallowed again, "I think I finally forgot that it happened."

"Poor little thing you were, and Uncle Gerry was in a tizzy. Said you'd no doubt have night terrors for a week after. I warrant you that he minded you after that. But, here you are, a fine young woman all grown up and not a trace of that little girl covered in mud remains. When next I'm in Savannah, I'll have Mrs. Fitzpatrick send you a packet. Then you can see if her cake is still as good as you remember."

Later, she could not remember what else they talked about. It might have been Rhett who carried the bulk of the conversation after that. How could years of nightmares be explained away in the course of one conversation? They'd started when she returned to Tara after the fall of Atlanta. Did her nightmares emerge because her life was so awful that it triggered buried memories of that terrifying night when she'd become separated from Pa in a strange place without any familiar landmarks to guide her?

Their voices flowed over her, Rhett's flat confident Charleston drawl and her cousin's quick and lovely brogue. But she was not in the room with them; she was in a haunted land, a place that was still and yet alive with spirits and the haunts that her mammy so often muttered about. _They had taken her from the warm kitchen and the woman who'd been giving her sweets to a place that was now thick with swirling mist, a place so foggy that she could not see the hands before her face. It was all her fault; she'd run ahead when her pa told her to stay in sight and now she was lost, lost and terrified. She was bitterly cold and hungry and so fearful of what lurked in the mists about her that she tried to scream but all that came out was a choking noise. _

_But she could not stop running, something terrifying was pursuing her and she was running, running till her small heart was near bursting, running in fog, crying out to her father to save her, blindly seeking either of the men who'd taken her from a haven of safety to the haunted country she now found herself in._

_Then, from the fog reaching out to drag her away came the hands of monsters. So she ran again, hearing their disembodied voice cry her name. Her headlong flight ended only a few seconds later when her red kid boots caught a protruding tree limb and she pitched forward._

"Scarlett!" His arms were around her, and without looking at their guest; he pulled her close, holding her against his heart. He was treating her as if she were a child in front of a man that, kin or not, was nearly a stranger. She should be embarrassed, but she didn't care, his muscles were comforting and the soft words he spoke in her ear soothed her until she stopped sobbing. Looking up, her eyes red rimmed, she gave Colum a trembling smile. "I'm sorry, what were we talking about?" If he was surprised by her behavior, he did not allow it to show. Instead he smoothly launched into a different topic of conversation, discussing how happy the men working for Rhett were adding that if he needed anything of the Irish he only had to ask and they would do whatever was in their power to assist him.

"They say you're a man they can respect," commented Colum, approval evident in his voice, "I've heard them say that when there's a shortage of hands you've been known to wield a shovel. You never ask a man to do anything you haven't done yourself. It's a rare man that can command that kind of respect, and I'm glad to find that my cousin is married to such a man. Uncle Gerry would be happy as well, at least that's what I'd like to think."

In his words, she would later realize, Scarlett found something that she'd never known she wanted till it was offered, approval of her marriage by an O'Hara. Hearing Colum not only praise Rhett, but add that other people felt the same way smoothed over just one more rough edge in her heart. Gerald might not have approved of the man Rhett Butler was, but he would have approved of the way he felt about her. Of that, she was positive.

"You'll stay for supper, won't you," she offered suddenly.

"I won't, much as I'd like to. I have a bevy of anxious women waiting on me and it'd be cruel to keep them waiting. But I hope you won't hold this refusal against me. I'd like very much to see you again and talk about the family."

"I'd like that very much," she replied.

"Good. I'll send one of the little boys over with the invitation; it's going to be a grand time. Tell me cousin do you dance?" His eyes fell on her cane and if he was embarrassed by his slip, he hid it well.

"Not this time," she replied tactfully.

"Ah, next time then. I'm always looking for a partner that's graceful as a saint and proud as Lucifer. I'll light a candle for you. Perhaps I'll light a second asking the good lord to send me a dance partner."

"One miracle with two prayers?" She quipped.

"Something like cousin," he said. The flippant grin on his face was familiar; she'd seen it before. Bonnie face often wore the O'Hara grin when she would gallop hell for leather across the yard toward the jump.

With Rhett's help, she came to her feet without difficulty, offering Colum her hand. Taking it, he squeezed it warmly; his merry blue eyes under feathery brows were keen with a probing, knowing intelligence. Looking into his eyes she knew he saw her plainly, realizing there was more to her than a pretty face.

"Will you come and see me soon?" She asked, trying not to sound overly eager.

"It would be my pleasure."

"I'm glad you came. Tell the family that I'm glad they sent you to ask, that is..." she became flustered, not wanting to admit how seeing Colum had affected her, "It was kind of them, I look forward to seeing them."

"I'll see you out Father," said Rhett.

"Thank you Mr. Butler. Good bye cousin."

"Call me Scarlett won't you."

"I will if you'll call me Colum."

She offered her hand again, "It's a deal."

They shook on it; this time both faces wore the O'Hara grin.

* * *

Lighting a cigar, Colum offered Rhett the case before putting it back in his pocket. "She's not well." It was a statement not a question.

"No," replied Rhett candidly.

Watching the smoking ring he'd just blown disappear in the light spring breeze, he smiled. "You got the land from the church, that will help I should think."

His face blank, Rhett asked, "does that bother you, me buying a nun's dowry?"

"Not a bit. That share of Uncle Gerry's place will do more for her than tonics and visits to the seashore. She's like her father in that. He loved Tara and he passed that love on to his daughter. If you hadn't finagled the share away from the church, I was going to attempt to intercede. But a word to the wise, don't trust Archbishop Lynch. He'd turn on you as he soon as he would look at you."

"Thank you for the warning but I'm not concerned."

He smiled at the confidence in Rhett's voice. "Aren't you? Any man that sounds so sure is either a fool, which I doubt that you are, or is in possession of something truly damning. Good for you lad, I'm betting Paddy Lynch will be glad to see the back of you."

"Scarlett was happy to see you," said Rhett, ignoring Column's previous statement. "Will you being coming by to see her again?"

"I will. It's funny to see her now, a grown woman."

Looking back toward the house, Rhett's expression did not change but a chilly note entered his voice. "Do you think we might disperse with the country Irish Father routine? It has its place and you made Scarlett very happy this afternoon, but..."

"But you don't think that it comes as naturally to me as it once did?"

"I want Scarlett to be happy, I also don't want to see her become involved in something that is beyond her comprehension. If you are hoping to forge a friendship with my wife that will benefit your movement, I am warning you, that will not happen."

The smile left Colum's face. "My movement, you mean the church?"

"You know the movement that I mean. You want a free Ireland, that's your business. The lengths you might be willing to go to, we all sometimes do foolish things for reasons that at the time seem valid. I myself marched off to join the South for a final stand that benefited no one. But I warn you, not one dollar to fund the Fenians. No telling her that her father would want her to support the brotherhood. Do not involve her."

"What even makes you think that I'm a Fenian, I'm a priest, shooting and raising hell isn't usually mentioned as something we engage in.."

"Who better to be a Fenian than a priest? You can travel between the United States and abroad without attracting a great deal of scrutiny. You are attached to a man who is known to be less than enthusiastic about supporting a free Ireland. In all, your cover is nearly perfect."

"I came to invite Scarlett to a family party, nothing more. If you read ulterior motives into that, I hope with time, I'll be able to change your mind."

"The night you and Mr. O'Hara lost Scarlett, what were you really doing?"

"Uncle Gerry and I were meeting John O'Mahony."

"The founder of the Fenians in the middle of a burned out plantation, a social call was it?"

"Uncle Gerry didn't support the brotherhood, but he was willing to give money to support the widows and children of the men who were cut down in the uprisings."

Gripping Colum by his labels, Rhett slammed him against one of the porch pillers. "You took a child into the middle of nowhere to meet a revolutionary?" He asked, his black eyes murderous with ill concealed rage.

Nonplussed by Rhett's actions, Colum had the decency to look embarrassed. "We did. It was foolish and if I were given a second chance, I would have told Uncle Gerry to leave her at the rectory." With strength that surprised Rhett, Colum reached up and began to loosen Rhett's hold. Letting him go, Rhett glanced toward the house again. It appeared their altercation had gone unnoticed.

"She was such a winsome little thing," said Colum, smoothing down the wrinkles from his jacket, "it's passing strange to see her now as a grown woman with little ones of her own. I promise you, on my father's soul, I came on behalf of the family to invite her to the christening, nothing more than that."

"Let me make this clear, if I even suspect that the Fenians are trying to make use of my your connections to my wife, I will dismiss every one of the Irish workers, to a man, from the mines. Is that understood?"

"Perfectly. We'll see you next week."

"Count on it, Good day Father."

"Good day Mister Butler."

* * *

"You were out there an awfully long time," said Scarlett suspiciously.

"Was I, I'm sorry if you were waiting long."

"That's not how I meant, were you talking to Colum this whole time?"

"I was."

"And," she pressed.

"And he seems like a very nice man, for a priest."

"He does," she agreed. "I wonder if he's the one that pa used to say wasn't very attached to his neck," she mused, half to herself.

Thinking he'd misunderstood her, he asked casually. "What was that?"

"I have a cousin that Pa was very fond of. He never mentioned him specifically by name, but he said that he was in the church and a Fenian. I suppose that must be Colum."

"I wasn't aware you knew who the Fenians were?"

"Don't be silly Rhett, my father came to this country because he shot a landlord's agent. I grew up with the Battle of the Boyne as a bedtime story. Of course I've heard of the Fenians."

Taking her hand, he raised her palm to his lips, kissing it lightly. "I underestimate you my dear."

"You do," she replied with a smile, "but don't worry, one of these days you'll learn not to."


	132. Beau

She found Rhett on the piazza smoking a cigar. Previously, he smoked in front of the fire in his old room or in the room they now shared, but apparently, even Eleanor Butler had her limits. After nearly a year of having Rhett at home again, she gently had begun to hint that he might consider giving up smoking. Thinking that Scarlett might have some sway, she'd petitioned her daughter in law but to no avail. So far as Scarlett was concerned, Rhett was a grown man and besides, she liked the smell of the fragrant cheroots he preferred.

Exasperated, Eleanor told him without preamble that it was an unpleasant habit and in recent weeks, she'd taken to clipping articles from ladies magazines about lozenges and patent medicines that supposedly broken men of the habit. Rhett being Rhett, ignored the suggestions, but in deference to his mother began smoking only in his study or outside.

For some time, Scarlett stood in the open French doors leading from their bedroom to the piazza, watching him unobserved. Over the years, their marriage had evolved into something strange and foreign when compared to her previous experiences. For most couples, a marriage started in the bloom of love; full of beauty, fragrant with passion and ripe with the promise of the yet to come. But the yet to come was simply decline; the fading of petals, the smell of decay just barely perceptible under the still sweet scent of a rose in bloom. In time, the petals wilted and all that was left was thorns.

But for them, it was the opposite. They had gone into a marriage beset with thorns. Thorns that tore, thorns that wounded them in ways that refused to heal, thorns that drew blood until neither of them had the will to continue. She might have stood a bit longer in silent contemplation of her husband but the soft rustling of her skirts had betrayed her, alerting him to her presence.

"What are you thinking about," he asked, without turning.

Not surprised that he knew she was there, from previous experience she knew it was very difficult to sneak up on Rhett, she answered without hesitation. "Roses."

He laughed softly. "If you insist," his tone telling her that he didn't believe her, "everyone settled in for the night?"

"Yes." Twisting her wedding ring thoughtfully, she decided that it would be better to discuss the Wilkes now rather than later, "Beau seems happy to be here, doesn't he?"

"He does. His father didn't seem all that pleased to be leaving him here."

"That's only natural. After all, they've never been apart outside of when Ashley was in the army. After losing Melly, I can also see why he is so attached to him."

"Did you find what you were looking for," asked Rhett, a trace of weariness in his voice.

"Was I looking for something," she replied innocently as she joined him at the railing.

"I thought you were, isn't that why Beau is here. You were looking to fulfill an obligation, if I remember correctly."

Questions that could easily become accusations hung in the air and rather than allow yet another quarrel to spring up between them, Scarlett plunged forward. "This afternoon, when I saw Beau, all I could think of was how much he looks like her."

"He does," agreed Rhett softly.

There was distant quality in his reply, but finally she knew how to stop the divide before it grew too large to cross. Even if she couldn't find the exact right words, she felt he would recognize the honesty in them.

"When I saw Ashley this afternoon, I was shocked. I remembered the young man he once was. I thought of how he'd once been and I hope one day, I pray that he can find someone that makes him as happy as you make me."

"So long as that someone isn't you, I wish Mister Wilkes well in that endeavor."

"I don't think he thinks of me in that way, not that he ever really did anywhere outside my imagination." She smiled wistfully. "Grandma Fontaine once told me that I don't understand people. I don't think that's exactly right. I think I don't bother to look at anyone long enough to see them as they are. Ashley was never Prince Charming, he was just someone different from everyone else I knew when we were younger. I thought that different…I thought different meant better."

Without moving his gaze from the dark backyard, Rhett smiled a little. "You've grown up without so much as a by my leave Scarlett. Today, you were pleasant to Ashley Wilkes, but nothing more. In my heart, I doubted you could ever really let go of your infatuation with him, but you have. You no longer need to hold the heart of every man in the room. I salute you."

"I don't need every man's heart." Lowering her lashes, she smiled sweetly. "The man I love has told me I have his heart, that's enough for me."

Rhett grinned. "That's a very sweet sentiment, tell me, did that declaration come with flowers and a box of chocolates?"

"Chocolates yes, but no flowers" Her green eyes sparkled as she taped him on the arm. "Hmm, I do believe you owe me flowers."

"I owe you flowers, how do you figure?"

A small pout shaped her red lips. "Oh fine, you don't owe me flowers, but I like getting them just the same."

"You never seemed to care when I would send you flowers in Atlanta."

"Of course I cared, I loved getting flowers from you, I just couldn't show them off when I was in mourning and then you stopped once we got married." Tracing lazy circles on the back of his hand with her pointer finger, her brow puckered lightly.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"A penny, you want them at cost? That's bad business Captain Butler," she teased. "I was just thinking, do you suppose Ashley will ever remarry?" Seeing him raise a brow, she rolled her eyes dismissively. "I just think that Beau needs a mother, a real mother. He needs someone who'll look after him without smothering him or constantly babying him. From what he told me when I tucked him in, Pitty and India are doing what they think is best but they are trying too hard to keep anything else from hurting him."

"You don't say."

Her eyes darted to his face. Not liking his expression, her eyes narrowed slightly. "What do you mean by that?"

"Why do you think I meant something?"

"Because you have that smug Rhett Butler knows best expression on your face."

"The only expression I have on my face is one of interest in what my wife is saying."

"Tell me what's on your mind?"

"You wouldn't want to hear it I think."

"Why not?"

"Because you never like hearing you're wrong, especially when you are."

She bristled like a wet cat. "Just what is it that you think I'm wrong about?"

"Wade. I think that you are doing precisely to him what you've just accused India Wilkes and Miss Hamilton of doing to Beau. You almost drowned and now you won't allow Wade to go out with me---"

Scarlett looked at him, startled, as if he'd screamed at her. A dull red flush suffused her cheeks with color. "That is a closed subject, I thought we had agreed that---"

"We did not agree, you decided and informed me that the matter was closed. I only agreed to let it go at the time. I would like to take Beau and Wade out sailing this week."

"No." Her voice was a strained growl.

"Scarlett---"

"How could you even suggest such a thing? If something were to happen, how could I face Ashley? How would you be able to face me and tell me that something had happened to my son? Have you ever considered that?"

"Nothing is going to happen."

"You can't be sure of that, no one can ever be sure of what will happen."

"That's very true, but I wish you'd reconsider."

"I can assure you, I won't. If you want to sail, I can't stop you, but I am Wade's mother and while he is here, I am responsible for Beau. Promise me, no more about sailing. I do not want to discuss this again."

His jaw was clenched. "Fine, we won't discuss it again."

The house was quiet now. The children were all asleep and Rosemary and Eleanor were down in the library playing cards. From the next yard came the snapping sound of someone's laundry left out on a line. The kitchen was below them, and the occasional clatter of dishes and silverware accompanied by the soft, lyrical laughter of Careen and Penny carried to the balcony.

"When did you want to leave for the Landing," asked Scarlett stiffly.

He shrugged. "The day after tomorrow. The will give Beau a day to adjust to being here and some time to catch up with Wade and Ella."

It was depressing to her; the way they couldn't meet one another's eyes. It had been a long day, made all that much longer because of Ashley coming, because of her fainting upon seeing Colum, because they still had so much to settle between them and even if it felt like years since they'd made amends it was less than a month and a handful of days. "Aren't they sweet together, Beau and Ella I mean," Scarlett blurted out, wanting to banish the silence.

"Aren't they a little young for matchmaking?"

"I am not matchmaking, I am merely commenting on what I saw tonight."

"Ella is still a little girl."

"You'll still be saying that when she's twenty." She smiled and the atmosphere seemed to undergo an instantaneous transformation, "Poor Rhett, what are you going to do when Ella turns sixteen or so and the beaux start courting her in earnest."

"Not a thing."

"You don't fool me for a second, you are not going to sit idly by when the young men come stuttering at the front door, hat in hand, asking please Captain Butler sir, if you can spare a moment of your time sir."

"I'm not trying to fool you, when Ella turns sixteen I won't have to do a thing. I'll have already had the drawbridge installed and the moat dug the year before when she's fifteen in anticipation of her sixteenth birthday."

Laughing till tears streamed down her cheeks, Scarlett shook her head, a grin settling on her lips. "With our luck, she'll choose someone who's arrogant, reckless and all together wild."

Catching her around the waist, he pulled her close, kissing her lightly, he leaned his forehead against hers. "You mean she'll pick someone like me," he murmured softly.

Leaning the cane against the piazza's railing, she leaned into his embrace. "That's exactly what I meant, but it wouldn't have been polite to say."

"In the first place, when have you ever cared if what you've said was polite and secondly, it takes a scoundrel to spot a scoundrel. I've already begun to work out a system to sort through Ella's beaux."

"This is a system to supplant the plan that seems to have come from a book of fairy stories?"

He lightly pinched the dimple in her chin. "Bite your tongue. This is a system conceived to work in conjunction with the moat and drawbridge plan. I've also considered building a tower and locking her in it until she's turned into a cool headed, sensible young woman. From your own personal experience, how old might that be do you think? Thirty or so?"

"Ha ha," she said dryly, "Please share with me, I'd love to hear all about your system."

"Oh ye of little faith," he exclaimed piously, "When I meet each young man, if it's someone I think I would like, someone I wouldn't mind playing cards with before staggering home drunk at five in the morning; then I will take him by the arm and throw him off the front steps."

Giggling, she swatted his chest playfully. "By that logic, pa should have tossed you from Aunt Pitty's porch."

"Had I not gotten him roaring drunk, no doubt he would have. I can just hear him now, calling me a damned Orangeman and when I told him I was in fact from Charleston…"

She smiled, "He told you that was twice as bad because his sister in laws lived there. I'll admit it, your system may have some merit."

"Well, I've given it some thought."

"Indeed, it shows."

"I aim to please Mrs. Butler."

Her eyes darkened and she reached up to clasp her hands behind his neck. "Oh do you now Captain Butler?"

"I do indeed Mrs. Butler."

'___________________________________________________________

Later, shifting restlessly in bed, she moved in closer to Rhett's comforting warmth.

"If you are considering becoming talkative, could we do it now rather than an hour or so from now," he murmured sleepily.

"I do not," said Scarlett, realizing she sounded defensive she was quick to point out that she hadn't said a word.

"You don't have to," he told her, smiling in the dark, "I know when you start wriggling closer to me that something's on your mind."

Seeing that it would be pointless to continue to deny that she did indeed have something on her mind, Scarlet admitted wistfully that she wished she could do more for Beau. "I don't think that Pitty and India know how to cope with his questions about Melanie," she concluded finally.

Yawning, Rhett rolled over and moved her into his arms. Her head resting on his chest, he brushed her hair back from her temple. Pressing a light kiss on her brow, he chuckled, the sound rumbling in her ear. "I would prefer it if you were tossing and turning because you were considering the best way to go about seducing me."

"I'm sorry, I know the Wilkes family isn't you favorite topic of discussion."

"It isn't, but I suppose if I want to get any sleep tonight, it behooves me to indulge you. If I were pressed to make assumptions based on my prior knowledge, Miss Hamilton probably breaks into tears at the very mention of Miss Melly and as for India Wilkes; she's never struck me as being particularly maternal. You've know her nearly all your life, was she always so cold?"

Lying there, just able to make out Rhett's outline in the darkness of their bedroom, Scarlett did something unusual, at least for her. She paused to consider the question before forming an answer. "I despise India, she's a troublemaker for the sake of making trouble but, and I never thought I would say this, life hasn't been kind to her. Mrs. Wilkes, her mother, died when Ashley, India and Honey were still young. Mr. Wilkes never remarried so most everything that needed overseeing at Twelve Oaks generally fell on India. India took over. She was an old maid even before the war started, and after she didn't have very much of a chance of catching a husband." Scarlett paused and was quiet for a minute, reflecting on the past."

"She had beaus though. Didn't anyone ask her?"

She was glad he couldn't see her blushing. "Well," admitted Scarlett, "she might have married Stu Tarleton, but he preferred me."

"Did you help him discover his preference," teased Rhett.

"Of course I did, I figured that if a girl couldn't keep a beau, she deserved to lose him."

"I imagine that India didn't feel quite the same way."

"She didn't exactly thank me."

"No, I don't imagine she would."

He began to rub her neck, digging his fingers into the back of her neck just enough to loosen the knots he found. Gradually, he moved to her shoulder before wrapping his arm around her waist.

Scarlett bit her bottom lip. Beau was without a mother because Melly wanted another child so desperately. Ashley was a widower for the same reason. What if she lost the baby and it killed her as Rhett feared it might? What if she left them all, her children alone in the world and Rhett…Would he blame himself? She flinched, after their last time over at the Landing she knew the answer to that question.

"Rhett?"

"Hmm," he murmured, running his hand slowly down her hip.

"Rhett," she repeated, wanting his undivided attention.

He groaned a little. "I said hmm, didn't I? I have to say, I don't remember you being so talkative when we previously shared a bed."

"Never mind then," she moved away from him, nestling into her pillow.

"No, out with it. If you don't get it all out now, you'll only wake me again in a few more hours."

"I was just thinking, about Beau and how Melly died. Do you think when he gets older and understands how it came to pass, do you think he'll be angry with her?"

"Why are you asking me this?"

"You asked me what I was thinking," she reminded him, "when it happened I thought she was a fool, I wondered why she would take the risk. I knew she wanted another baby, she always wanted a daughter, but I didn't understand---"

Shoving the covers back, Rhett got out of bed. "And you still don't. You know, I've always thought your tenacity was one of your most attractive qualities, but right now you are either too blind or too stupid---"

She sat up. "Stupid! How dar---"

He leaned over the bed, his palms resting on the bed inches from her hips, effectively pinning her down. "Yes stupid. Too stupid to see what's here in front of your face. You've been given second chances all around. I love you more than anything in the world, even though you drive me to distraction. Your children, after everything, Ella adores you and Wade… God love that boy he loves you wholeheartedly. Despite everything he knows about you, and its more than any boy should know about his mother, he loves you. Not because he is expected to but because you " pushing off the bed, he stalked across the room. Ripping open a drawer, he fumbled in the dark, before lighting the small, mostly decorative lamp on the dresser. Taking out a few items of clothing, he began to dress without so much as looking in her direction.

"What are you doing," she cried, her voice cracking.

"Getting dressed."

"It's pitch black out, where are you going to go?"

He turned, his expression unfathomable. "For a walk."

"A walk?" The sarcasm in her voice was so thick it was practically its own entity. "A walk to where, the nearest saloon?"

"Sometimes a walk is just a walk."

"And sometimes a question is just a question."

Grabbing something from the valet in his top drawer, he thrust it into his pocket before answering her coldly. "Then why not ask the question that's really on your mind, is it worth leaving Ella and Wade orphans to have another child. The answer is no, every time you ask, it will be the same answer, a resounding no."

And then, he was gone.

Her hand rested on her stomach before twisting in the fabric of her nightgown. She thought they had lived through the worst times of their lives, but she had been wrong. So long as time continued forward no one time was the worst, not when the future could bring new bad times.

She needed to see a doctor to confirm whether she was expecting or not. Damn Jason Cross to hell, just when she actually needed him, he was gone. Rosemary might know his location, but would she give it to her without questioning why Scarlett needed to contact him? Perhaps, or far more likely, Rosemary would badger her relentlessly until she confided in her. And, if she did that, Rosemary would go directly to Rhett.

In her heart, she was positive that she was pregnant, but what if she were wrong? The breath began to hitch in her chest while gasping shudders shook her body. "Oh God," she whispered brokenly, "what am I going to do?" _________________________________________________

The next few days passed pleasantly for the Butlers and Beau Wilkes. Rhett was at the breakfast table the morning after their fight and from Maingo she'd learned that he'd slept on the sofa in his office. He did not refer to their fight and she reciprocated by going out of the way not to raise any subject that might lead to further heated words.

Between them, they made Beau feel like a welcome addition to the family not a temporary guest. Rhett and Scarlett at their best were an undeniable force and the children were overjoyed to have their cousin, and favorite playmate with them. In their midst, Beau lost some of the undercurrent of sadness that hung about him like an invisible shroud.

Before Ashley left for Colombia, he made Scarlett swear repeatedly that she would send him a wire if Beau expressed even the slightest longing to go home. She'd promised, crossing her heart with a roll of her eyes and a bright smile. Taking a brief moment to reassure him, she was at the same time insistent. It would be good for father and son to spend a little time apart. Scarlett hoped that, if this first visit went well, Ashley would consider allowing Beau to spend some of his summer holidays with them.

At first, while settling Beau in, Scarlett worried she'd taken on more than even she could handle. While she felt sure that she was becoming a better mother to Wade and Ella, she wasn't positive that she could give Beau the kind of love and attention he so obviously needed.

On Beau's first night in residence, she began to see just how wounded Beau still was by losing his mother. Going through her normal routine, she first tucked in Ella before checking in on Wade. After knocking briefly, Scarlett opened Wade's door to find him curled up in the armchair by the window, immersed in a book. It was strange to her still, this evolving ritual of seeing her children in their rooms before bed. Before, in Atlanta, it was customary for the children to come to her office with either Prissy or Mammy to wish her a good night. Penny dressed Ella for bed and made sure that Wade went upstairs on time but it was Scarlett who made the final rounds.

Showing affection was something else that she was working on. Kissing the children still did not come naturally to her, but she did, in Wade's case while warning him that he only had ten minutes left to finish whatever he was reading.

Last but by no means least, she went to check on Beau. He was already in bed, looking as if he'd been waiting for her. Hesitantly, as if expecting a rebuke, he'd asked her for a story. Before she could reach toward the small stack of books Wade had left on the bedside table, his sweet voice stopped her.

_"Would you tell me a story about my mother?" The little boy had his mother's warm brown eyes; soft. Rich and loving without a trace of artifice or guile. They were eyes that invited a confidence without pushing or prying. When she did not speak, he smiled tremulously. "You were mother's best friend Auntie; you must know lots of stories about her."_

_"I suppose I know some stories," conceded Scarlett reluctantly, feeling suddenly shy in the presence of Melanie's son. "What about your Aunt India? She and your mother were cousins; they grew up together? Or Pitty, she raised your mother and Wade's father too. Between the two of them, they must tell you about her, don't they?"_

_Biting his lip, he shook his head a little. " When I ask Aunt Pitty and Aunt India to tell me about her, Aunt Pitty cries and Aunt India just reads me a story from the bible."_

_"Oh," she said, thinking less than charitable thoughts about both India and Pitty, "what about your father? Does he talk to you about her?"_

_The boy looked away from her inquisitive gaze, obviously struggling with what he wanted to tell her. "He tries to tell me stories about her, but he never finishes," admitted Beau. His expression became eager, hope flared in his eyes as he smiled at her wistfully. "Please, couldn't you tell me a story about her?"_

_Settling herself gingerly on the edge of his bed, she accidentally hit the night table with her cane. Though she was feeling better and better each day, Scarlett was still awkward in her movements. Seeing the anxiety her reliance on the cane caused him, she did the first thing she though Melly would have done. She smoothed the tousled gold hair, the same shade as his father's had been, back from his brow._

_How she'd once envied Melly for giving birth to Ashley's son. She'd hated her for it, wished her dead in fact. That first time she'd held Beau in her arms, Scarlett would have moved heaven and earth to call him her own. And Melly, unaware of her selfish designs had given her Beau. That gentle, unsuspecting soul had made her swear that if she died, Scarlett would raise Beau as if he were her own son. _

_Beau was lucky that his mother survived the trip to Tara and the subsequent years after the war. If Beau had been left to her, he might have suffered the same distracted mothering Wade and Ella had received from her. Or she would have spoiled him, treating him as the center of her world just because circumstance made him the son of the man she thought she loved instead of one of the men she'd married._

_And as she knew from a painful and final lesson, spoiling children could have a disastrous outcome._

_Looking at the Beau who was waiting expectantly, smiling at her still, Scarlett returned his smile hesitantly. It was hard to find a story that she was comfortable telling. It was true that she knew many stories in which Melly featured prominently. Unfortunately, it was also true that in those stories war, death, famine and depravation also featured prominently. _

_Still, she thought, there has to be some little story that wasn't overly sad or complicated by omission. A real smile spread across her face. "There is a story I could tell you, I could tell you the story about the cake you mother made for your father when he came home for a visit during the war."_

_It was a funny story, one in which Melly in her excitement had mistakenly added four cups of sugar instead of flour and by the time the cake came out of the oven it had completely sunk in the middle. By the time she came to the conclusion where Ashley had finished two bites of cake before Scarlett and Melanie had dissolved into laughter, Beau was giggling right along with her._

_Finally, as she tucked the covers in around him, Beau made a small sighing noise._

_"What's the matter darling," she asked him, thinking he was just a little home sick._

_"Why did God take my mother to heaven?"_

_She must have looked stricken, because he proceeded in a rush, no doubt from previous experience asking other adults in his world the same question. "Daddy said it was because he needed her to be an angel, but didn't God know that I needed her?"_

_How to answer him? She struggled trying to find the words to comfort him, but there were none. How could she explain to a child that she did not understand how God could take mothers when you needed them most? "Honey, I don't know why she had to leave us."_

_"I miss her so much. I wish she could come home."_

_"I wish she could too. I miss her, very much. There isn't a day that doesn't goes by without me thinking of her."_

__

_"I wish she didn't have to go be an angel. Do you think she wanted to be an angel."_

_"I don't know sweetheart. I don't think she wanted to leave us, but she didn't have a choice." Her words sparked some sort of recollection; she could see it in his expression._

_"I heard Aunt India tell Aunt Pitty that mother made her choice, but me and daddy had to pay for it, what does that mean?" _

_It meant that India was even more of a witch than she'd originally believed, thought Scarlett trying to keep the anger from her expression. "I don't know what_ _she meant by that," lied Scarlett, "but, I can tell you this. I believe that, someday we all see each other again."_

_"In heaven?"_

_"Yes."_

_"I wish we didn't have to wait so long Aunt Scarlett. I want to see mother now, not years and years from now."_

_She took his hand and squeezed it lightly. "I know Beau how you feel Beau," she said, thinking of his mother and her own. "Believe me, I know."_

A/N

So I got my laptop back from service and as some of you now know, they decided for some reason to do a complete reinstall and thus, wiped out everything I had including pictures, music, and yes writing.

I have some things backed up, but a lot I only have a hard copy of or just the original written outline...so, I am hoping you all enjoy this chapter, I reconstructed it as best I recall it.

Let this be a lesson, back up your files often.

I also posted the first chapter to a five part Christmas Story based on Charles Dickens 'A Christmas Carol', the next chapter will be posted Thursday.


	133. Penny

**_I couldn't have done this without Alica and Pillows4poodles, they kept me going._**

"Sweetheart?" His breath tickled her ear and she snickered softly, turning her head. He wasn't fooled; he knew she was at least half listening. Chuckling, he grasped the covers, pulling them slightly.

"Rhett," she pouted, "I'm sleeping."

He laughed. "Are you getting up anytime soon?"

She shook her head, pulling the covers back up to her chin. She felt his hand brush the hair back from her brow before he kissed her lightly. "I have a few things to attend to, I'm going to take the children so you can have an uninterrupted morning of sleeping in."

Her eyes did not open nor did she acknowledge him verbally but a small smile appeared on her lips. A minute later, the door closed softly behind him. She was alone. Opening one eye, she made certain that Rhett was gone before she sat up, stretching luxuriously, her back arching like a cat.

Getting out of bed was becoming easier, she thought jubilantly as she pushed back the covers. Soon, so very soon, she could hand the cane back to Doctor Cross and thank him for everything. Then she would be able to concentrate on the progression of her pregnancy. Stroking her stomach lovingly, she wondered if her morning sickness would be making an appearance. She didn't look forward to the idea of leaning over a bowl for most of the morning, but really what a small price to pay for such impending happiness.

When she was a young woman, before she'd married, Mammy had spoken of a perfect time. A time that came in every life, she'd told her that one day there would be a time when she would look around and finally be content. She'd assumed at the time that her perfect time would start on her first morning as mistress of Twelve Oaks. Or perhaps on the afternoon that Ashley proposed, declaring his love for her. None of the scenarios she's pictured with a schoolgirl's flare for the dramatic had included anyone like Rhett.

Not that there was anyone else like Rhett, she thought, smiling lovingly. What a gift he'd just given her, the best gift any wife and mother could receive, a morning all to herself. Moving the pillows around until she had them just so, Scarlett climbed back into her still warm bed. Penny would be up in a little while and when she came, it would be breakfast in bed followed by a long bath. After that, she would check the workmen's progress on the conservatory.

From outside, she could hear the men starting their day's work. They were singing as they worked, songs that were familiar to her. Songs formerly sung by the field hands, wordless for the most part, but still pleasing to the ear. Lying in bed, listening to their deep baritone voices raised in song, she'd allowed her mind to drift.

Life was funny, she thought. Finally, everything she'd ever wanted, even if she hadn't known she wanted it, was within her grasp. Who would have thought that Rhett Butler, cad extraordinaire, would have been the key to her happiness? Chuckling softly, she rolled onto his side of the bed, burying her face into his pillow before drifting back to sleep.

She was out on the sloop again, lost in a storm tossed sea. She had no memory of how she'd come to find herself out on the water. It made no sense, she intended to never go sailing again and now here she was, alone. And what about Rhett? Where could he be? Surely, he wouldn't have allowed her to come out here by herself? Cupping her hands over her mouth, she called out for him again and again, screaming his name, her voice small, instantly lost, swallowed by the roaring wind.

_There was no reply; she was alone. _

Huge swells battered the tiny craft. Cold seawater began to fill bottom of the boat. Circling her calves, the icy water lapped eagerly at her, chilling her to the bone. Scrambling toward the stern, she tried frantically to mimic Rhett's handing of the rudder but she could remember nothing helpful from that day. She could remember nothing of that day now except the terror of their previous near miss. Then, before she had a chance to further panic, the boat capsized.

_The water rushed over her head, her heavy skirts dragging her down toward a watery grave. She tried to scream but brackish water filled her mouth and nose, choking her. Clawing frantically, Scarlett managed to break free of her sodden skirts. Then, slicing through the water with wildly slashing strokes, she managed to break through the water's surface. The boat was there before her. If she were to survive, she knew she had to get under it in order to seek shelter from the gale force winds that lashed her mercilessly._

_Pinching her nose closed, she took a deep breath. Putting her head back under the water terrified her but she knew she had to. Ducking under the waves, she tried to stay as close to the surface as possible. A wave took the boat just as she tried to swim under. The hull slammed into her head, temporarily stunning her. Pain exploded behind her eyes, worse than any of the migraines that had plagued her over the years since the accident._

_She tasted blood on her lips; she must have bitten them when the boat's side hit her. Licking her lips, she tasted blood and a trace of salt. She did not know if the salt was from the pitiless sea or her tears._

A faint, twisting pain in her lower back caught her attention. It wasn't particularly strong, but still…it was familiar. Best described as a dull, sawing pain, it was one she hadn't felt in months. Clinging to a rope she'd found hanging down, she wondered how much longer she could hold on before cold and exhaustion claimed her. As the boat rose up and fell down in nauseating swoops, another stabbing pain made her aware of her aching back. Had she injured it when the boat capsi--

A piercing pain ripping across her belly shocked her out of the nightmare. Clutching her abdomen, she groaned, the sound coming from deep within her throat. Again and again, her stomach knotted, leaving her in excruciating pain. Just when she thought that she would die because no one could live through such agony, the pain mercifully stopped. Taking a deep breath, she began to sit up but before she could recover, the cramps tore at her again, tearing at her insides until all she could do was press her hands against her abdomen to try and contain the pain.

It was not one or two isolated pains, but a series of debilitating cramps. There was no denying it, she was cramping. Dear God no, she thought frantically, gritting her teeth in a death grimace, how could she be miscarrying? Fighting desperately to rise from the bed, hoping she could summon help for herself and the baby, Scarlett was assailed by another cramp. Then, from her most secret parts, came the familiar sensation of the beginning of Eve's curse.

With great trepidation, she pushed the covers aside. Scarlett, realist to her very core, was willing in that moment to lie to herself, to pretend that there was still hope. Looking down, the brilliant red spots of her blood against the crème silk of her nightgown caused her heart to begin to ache. There was to be no baby. The baby that she had been planning for, the baby she had been so sure was coming...wasn't.

Her flux had come, finally. She wasn't miscarrying; she had been late. How could she have been so wrong? She'd been so certain, so utterly, completely sure. Now, with razor sharp clarity she saw it. Like a hysterical green girl, desperate to conceive, she'd taken signs that could have meant anything and pieced them together until she convinced herself that there was going to be a baby.

The baby. She'd planned for it, welcomed the thought of its coming but now she knew, there was no baby. She wasn't pregnant.

She had just been late.

She couldn't even mourn as she might after a miscarriage. There was no baby to mourn. She was a fool, thought Scarlett bitterly, a poor pitiful deluded fool. The room felt as if it were expanding and contracting around her, keeping time with the throbbing of her heart. From outside she could still hear the workers singing but now she wanted them to stop. Wanted nothing more than to lean out her window and scream. She wanted to scream at them to stop being happy when she could feel nothing now except devastating pain and crippling anger.

The baby carriage, hidden at Sally's house, would remain empty for the foreseeable future, a carriage ordered because her mind and body conspired to make her believe that she, Scarlett O'Hara, had been granted a miracle. But there were no miracles, only a single hard truth. She wasn't pregnant.

After that realization was processed and finally accepted by her still resisting mind, the world blurred for a time.

When she came back to herself, she was sitting in the chair beside the fireplace. Clutching her wrapper tightly around her, she tried to focus, pressing herself to remember what had happened. It hurt her heart to think, she felt physically wounded. Angry tears burned in her eyes. There was no baby, no hope now that there would be one. She'd overplayed her hand with Rhett and no matter what he promised, when the time came, he would refuse to try. He would cite all the reasons why her proceeding with a pregnancy was ill advised and then, if that approach failed, he would try to bribe her before flat out refusing to hold up his end of their bargain.

Looking toward the bed, she saw her nightgown or rather, the remnants of her nightgown. A shred of fabric, spotted with dried blood taunted her. Had she really ripped her nightgown off her body and then destroyed it? She couldn't remember. It was frightening, to know she was capable of such blind anger. It reminded her of that day on the staircase, the day she lost her baby. She had been so enraged that she'd acted without thought, pushed forward by raw emotion and rage.

What else did she destroy just now, she wondered looking around the bedroom. The ornaments from her beside table littered the floor. They were all broken, smashed to pieces. The tiny Dresden Shepherdess, her favorite piece, was sans her head as well as her sheep.

Little Bo Peep really had lost her sheep, thought Scarlett. A shrill hysterical giggle escaped her lips. Oh God, was she going mad? No, she decided. You couldn't be mad if you suspected you were mad. Forcing herself to continue she continued to take in the carnage.

A prism rainbow dancing on the wall caught her eye. Following it down to its source, she saw shards of glass from the frames that had once stood on her bedside table glittering in the sun.

She wondered if the dull throb in her heel was a shard of glass. Entirely possible, she thought distractedly. Her bedside lamp was also on the floor; the sharp tang of spilled kerosene mixing with the contents of the shattered scent bottles to produce a heavy, noxious smell that sickened her.

The mirror over the mantle was shattered, the bookend she'd hurled at it rested haphazardly on the mantelpiece. At least it wasn't the Venetian one that Rhett was so fond of, she thought. That was over in the house she was expected to live in. Had promised to live in. The house that she did not want to ever see again, let along reside in.

Reaching into the pocket of her wrapper, she withdrew the small saint's medallion that Careen gave her when she'd told her sister about her longing for a baby. What good had it done, she thought, curling her shaking hand into a fist. She'd prayed and prayed and what did she receive in return? Nothing but disappointment and a broken heart. The edges of the pot metal medallion cut into the soft flesh of her palm, but she was beyond caring.

When she opened her hand again, there were two smears of blood. Wiping her hand on her wrapper, she looked down to find two small cuts. The blood began to flow from her wounds. No matter how many times she wiped it away, the blood continued to well up from her cuts.

The metallic scent of blood assailed her nostrils. She gagged painfully as tears began to fall, spotting her wrapper.

"I hate you," she whispered painfully, her voice sounding raw to her ears. "Why did you have to take this too? Why God, why? Why take this too? You took my parents, my baby, my daughter. You took Melly; you even took Mammy, you waited till I needed her most. You take everything, so why am I surprised that you took this too? It's not fair," she cried out, the words tearing themselves from her throat, "it's not fair. This time I was ready, I wanted it so badly… why couldn't I have this?" Her heart pounded painfully; maybe it was possible to die of a broken heart.

"I want my baby," she whispered quietly, "this isn't fair. Please, don't do this to me. I've tried so hard, so hard to be different. Please…" She choked on the words, hating herself for begging. God didn't care what she did or didn't do. Her childish fear of going to hell after Frank died, how ridiculous. There was no hell after death; if anything, hell was right here on earth. Hell would be going to Sally's and telling her to dispose of the carriage. Hell would be accepting that she would most likely never again carry a child.

Hell was that Rhett would be glad she wasn't pregnant.

A soft scraping noise caught Scarlett's attention. Penny must have finally come to check on her. "Come in," Scarlett said, before she could knock on the door.

The girl was halfway into the room before she realized that it had been the scene of something beyond her understanding. "Miss Scarlett," asked Penny softly, looking around the room, "God almighty, who did this?"

"I did," she replied diffidently.

Her soft brown eyes widened and taking a step back, she stammered, "Miss Scarlett, I'll go and find Captain Butler and he'll…"

"Don't you dare," growled Scarlett, "come in here, close that door." When Penny hesitated, Scarlett snapped, her voice as sharp as a whip cracking. "I said get in here, now."

"Yes Miss Scarlett," Penny whispered.

"You need to help me," said Scarlett, her eyes burning bright in a face as still and cold as a death mask.

"Yes," Penny came to Scarlett's side and kneeling by her chair, she tentatively reached out for her mistress's hand. "What can I do?"

"You'll need to do exactly as I say. You must be quick and above all, discreet. No one, Captain Butler especially, can know how you found me, how you found this room. Do you understand?" She gripped Penny's hand, her wedding ring cutting into the girl's flesh, "This is a secret between us, it can never leave this room, do you understand me?"

There was a thick, painful pause between them before Penny squeezed Scarlett's hand back. "My mama told me that a lady's maid is her mistress's right hand, she should be the most trusted of all the household. You could ask me to do anything, and I would," pledged Penny earnestly.

"She must have also told you that pretty words only mean something if you follow through." Staring into Penny's dark, slightly almond shaped eyes, searching for some sign that she could trust this girl. Scarlett could feel time slipping by as if it were a tangible thing. Releasing Penny's hand, she hated herself for allowing this girl, this veritable stranger to see her in such a weak and pitiful state.

"If there's blood on the sheets you'll need to strip the bed, go and check."

Penny stepped carefully over the smashed picture frames. Surveying the sheets, she turned back to her mistress. "Yes Miss Scarlett, there is blood. Not so very much, but some."

"Strip the bed. Take the sheets and when you leave this room, hide them somewhere. Tonight, when everyone else is sleeping, burn them. Don't turn them into rags, don't reuse them for anything else, don't do anything with them except what I am telling you to do. I want them burned. You understand?"

"Yes Miss Scarlett."

"My nightgown, take what's left of that, burn it with the sheets. I need you to clean up the glass and straighten up this room. I need you to erase any trace of what happened." Looking up over the fireplace, she cringed. "Find someone to help take down that mirror. Find something to replace it. It doesn't matter what. A picture, another mirror; there just needs to be something hanging there when Captain Butler comes back."

"Won't he wonder why you took it down?"

"I'll tell him I didn't like it. If he presses me for a better reason, I'll worry about it then."

"There's a painting, end of the hall," Penny suggested, "it's the same size as the mirror."

Scarlett nodded. "Yes, that's fine." She watched dispassionately as Penny struggled to pull the sheets from the bed. "Do you know where Captain Butler is?"

"Yes Miss Scarlett, he took the children over to Miss Julia's this morning. He told me not to wake you. He said I should come and check on you now and again, make sure you were still sleeping and not needing me."

"When you get this mess cleaned up, I want a bath. I want the water hot; make sure of that please. Not lukewarm, not warm, hot."

"Down in the bathing room or up here in your room. If you want to take a bath up here I'll have to---"

"Downstairs will be fine. While I'm down there, I need you to air out this room. Bring some flowers in, burn something in the fireplace. Maybe some cinnamon or apple bark. Anything to cut the stink of the kerosene. I think it must have stained the carpet."

"I can try to scrub it out with rosewater and vinegar, but it might ruin the carpet."

"That is a chance I am willing to take." She began to twist her wedding ring. It was a nervous habit that she'd first acquired after Wade was born. It came and went, reemerging whenever she felt helpless.

It was a wise idea to enlist Penny's help. She worked methodically and slowly order began to emerge. It was almost as if the girl was trained in subterfuge. She even folded the sheets neatly to hide the bloodstains. Now if anyone saw her taking them downstairs, they wouldn't know anything was amiss. Except for the broken mirror, the bedroom looked presentable again.

"Penny?"

"Yes Miss Scarlett?"

You've been with me a short time, but in that time, you've made yourself indispensable. You were only meant to help me while my maid Pansy was in Atlanta. Obviously, she isn't coming back. Will you be staying on as my maid?"

"If you'll have me Miss Scarlett, I will stay."

"I wouldn't be asking if I didn't want you to continue working for me. When we get back to Miss Eleanor's you and I will sit down and discuss a salary, you'll also need a small clothing allowance. There will be a few extra tasks but you'll be compensated accordingly." She frowned a little. "Did Captain Butler say when he might return?"

"No ma'am. He told me not to expect him and the children for lunch so I reckon he'll be gone for another few hours. Do you want any breakfast before your bath."

She shook her head. "No. I'm not hungry."

"As soon as I bring these down," she said gesturing to the neat bundle of sheets, "I'll make sure that some of the kitchen staff starts heating water for your bath."

"Thank you Penny."

The sweetest sound in the world is the closing of a door when all you want is to be alone.

- - - -

Sitting in the tub of still steaming water, Scarlett began to scrub herself. The scent of blood seemed to cling to her skin. No matter how hard she scrubbed with a cloth and the violet soap she preferred, she could still smell the copper scent of her own blood. The scent seemed to linger in her nostrils. She felt like an animal with a highly developed sense of smell.

Her head was pounding. The smell of blood in her nose had been replaced by the scent of the violet soap. A sweet, cloying scent that made her ill. A wave of nausea tore through her, causing her to shudder as if chilled. When Penny came back, she would send her up for a wool nightgown and a heavier wrapper. The ones she'd chosen were not heavy enough to keep her warm. She needed to be warm; her whole body felt cold no matter how hot the water was.

She knew that she should get dressed. Lounging all day in a nightgown was something she normally would not consider but she felt as if she deserved a day to herself. One day in which she could take some time to come to terms with her disappointment.

Getting dressed today was not an option, she thought as she slid down further into the tub.

- - - -

Sitting by the bedroom window, Scarlett brushed out her still damp hair. The room smelled better than it did when she went downstairs, but the smell of kerosene was not completely gone. With a little luck, it would dissipate before bedtime.

Looking at her hand, she winced. Her skin was splotchy, still very red from the intense scrubbing she'd done in the bath. Hopefully it would fade before Rhett came home.

Rhett. For a little while, she'd forgotten about him, but now he was once again at the forefront of her thoughts.

Looking at her present situation logically, she knew that telling him was a bad idea. Sally could be trusted to keep a secret, and Penny seemed to be loyal to her. Rhett would look at her with those dark eyes and judge her. Really, that was laughable, as if he had a right to make judgments on anyone.

Her stomach clenched angrily. So she'd gone behind his back, so what? Hadn't he done the same to her more times than she could count? Letting her go off to Marietta all the while knowing that he was leaving her when she returned. Who did that, looked you in the eye, wished you a safe journey and then made plans without telling you what was on their mind, she raged silently.

So immersed was she in her own grief, that she conveniently ignored her own duplicities over the last two months.

She felt tears gather in the corners of her eyes but this time she willed them away. No more tears. How would crying help? There was no baby. That knowledge hurt, but an ocean of tears would not change that.

It was beginning to rain outside. Presently, it was just a light drizzle but she knew the signs of an oncoming storm. Soon the light rain would turn heavy. The sky was already dark, ominously so. The spring in Charleston was often filled with nasty storms. According to her aunt's letters over the years, each spring was worse than the one preceding it.

This was the perfect weather to match her mood, ruminated Scarlett. Her lips pursed into a speculative frown. Rhett was over at Julia Ashley's with the children and, since she hadn't heard the sounds of three children yelling their collective heads off, she assumed they were still there. The question was, how had they gotten there?

It was too far for them to have walked since they had Ella with them. Rhett, Beau and Wade might have ridden over but since Ella refused to ride on a pony or horse, even in front of someone, that seemed unlikely.

It bothered Rhett that Ella was scared of horses. He'd confided in her recently, telling her that it upset him to see Ella held back from something because of what happened to Bonnie. Scarlett nearly pointed out that he was doing the same thing to himself when it came to a baby, but she'd just managed to restrain herself. After careful consideration, she allowed Rhett to write an acquaintance that bred Shetland ponies.

A week ago, the sweet tempered pony he'd bought Ella as a surprise arrived at the Landing. The previous day, they'd gone down to the barn to look at the pony without Ella. It was a mild little creature and when Scarlett offered it a sugar lump, it nosed her hand gently. She approved of the pony. There didn't appear to be a high-strung bone in its diminutive body. It should have been the perfect gift but when they took Ella down to make its acquaintance, she froze on the threshold of the barn. No amount of cajoling, wheedling, or insisting could make her go in.

It was the first time since the children arrived in Charleston that Scarlett's palm itched to slap Ella. It frustrated her that a child of hers was so timid. She might have yelled at the little girl, but Rhett only shook his head. "Let it go," he told her quietly under his breath.

"But Rhett---"

"Don't force her Scarlett, it's alright."

Wade didn't express any particular fondness for horses, but Rhett was hoping to change that. Ella could refuse to ride and no one would turn a hair. A girl could be timid around horses. Some men might even admire her for being so delicate. Yes, Ella had the luxury of being a girl, but Wade would one day grow up to be a man. He would need to learn to ride, if he was to be accepted in the right circles.

Scarlett already worried that he might take too much after Charles when it came to looks. He was a good-looking young man, but his features were delicate. That alone might make him a target of ridicule among his peers. He was already a little quiet and somewhat bookish. If he was to be accepted, he would have to learn to outride and outshoot all the other boys.

Perhaps while Beau was visiting, Rhett could take them both riding. Wade would go along if his younger cousin did. She'd noticed between them the faint stirrings of rivalry. It was friendly, but still present between the two boys. That stood to reason; before Beau's mother's death, the boys spent years together in close proximity. In many ways they were very similar, seeming more like brothers than cousins.

"Scarlett?"

Rhett. He managed to sneak up on her once again. She became still, her hands folding in her lap. Slowly, she raised her chin and looked at him dispassionately. "You're soaked," she observed unemotionally.

"Well, if we are stating the obvious, you're sitting in your nightgown in a dark room. I have an excuse, what's yours," he quipped, gentle sarcasm evident in his voice.

"I am in my nightgown because I didn't feel like putting on a dress today if everyone was out. It's dark because I broke the lamp this morning and Penny forgot to find another to replace it."

"How did you manage to break it?"

"I tripped and knocked it over."

"Scarlett---"

She looked away from him. "I said I knocked it over, why is that not enough of an explanation for you?"

"I didn't say that it wasn't. Have I done something wrong, you look as if you're ready to stab me in my sleep. Should I adjourn to another bedroom tonight," he teased.

"Maybe you should," she snapped.

His expression changed. "Any particular reason for my banishment?" His jaw clenched but otherwise he was without expression. "I neglected to ask, when is the honorable Ashley Wilkes returning for Beau?"

"This isn't about him."

"So you've said before and yet, here we are again. If this isn't about him and the place he holds in your, and forgive me for saying, often divided affections, then what is it about?"

"You are a jackass." She stood up slowly, her hand clutching the arm of her chair for support. "Should I tattoo a motto on my forehead for you? Something along the lines of I don't love Ashley Wilkes, I love my husband even if he makes a fool of himself with his constant accusations."

He smiled a little, believing her to be sincere. "It would have to be very small print to fit all of that."

She brushed off his attempt at levity. "I don't feel well Rhett, I haven't all day."

His cool demeanor completely thawed. Coming to her, he gently rested his hand on her shoulder, pushing her back into her chair. Resting the back of his hand first against her cheek, then her forehead, he frowned. "You're very warm. You should be in bed."

"I was in bed most of the day. I needed to be up for a little while."

"You've been up, we had a fight and now I am apologizing. In all, I'd say that makes up for the previous inactivity of the rest of your day." He picked her up and after settling her back into bed, he moved a chair to her bedside. "Do you want me to bring you something?"

She laughed softly. "Do you remember when you made me breakfast when we were over here? I'll never forget the sight of you, dishcloth in your waistband while you dodged the embers."

"Laugh all you like, as I recall, your amusement at my culinary prowess didn't affect your appetite. You still polished off half a side of bacon and a dozen eggs."

"I did not."

"Its no surprise you can't recall. You ate like a longshoreman."

Scarlett stuck out her tongue. "You're awful." Then, something rose in her throat, choking her. She grimaced at the sour taste in her mouth. "Scarlett?"

"I'm fine, I just don't feel well. Would you find Penny and ask her to make me a cup of tea? After that, she can settle the children into bed. I'll check on them in a little while."

"They aren't here. I left them over at Julia's for the night. The weather outside was terrible. Not fit for man nor beast, but I braved my way back for you," he swept her a courtly bow, "my lady fair."

"Are you sure they'll be alright over at Julia Ashley's? What if thunder starts, Ella hates thunder."

"She'll be fine. She was playing a game with Caroline when I left. By the way, I have gossip for you, Julia packed the other girls back off to their respective parents."

Hiding a yawn behind her hand, Scarlett tried to feign interest. "Really? I thought they were staying for a while, did she say why?"

"Not to me. Julia's funny that way. One never knows what she's up to until she's done. She's fond of Wade. She tells me he is well on his way to being a Charleston Gentleman. High praise when you consider the source. Julia's said she was going to teach the boys a few card games, they both seemed receptive toward the idea. In all honesty, I was glad that they stayed. I think Caroline is glad for the company. It's no doubt a little lonely at the Barony."

He looked down to find Scarlett fast asleep, her lips slightly parted. She would be snoring softly in another twenty minutes or so. She looked so utterly defenseless when she slept. He leaned over and laid his palm on her forehead. She was still warm and her color was poor. She did look ill, but there was more here than a touch of flu.

There was something very wrong with his wife. There was nothing that he could think of that should be bothering her. Beau was with them and Ashley's visit had been surprisingly painless. While she wasn't particularly happy about moving into their new home, she seemed to have made peace with it.

What could have worked her up into the state he'd found her in? Bestowing one last tender look on her, Rhett left to find Penny.

**A/N What's this, could it be an updated FTE chapter? Why it is. What a shock. So yes, last month was my FTE Anniversary. Which one, I'd rather not say. But, I would like to point out that in the last few years, I've posted about 800 FTE pages, finished The Lady, This Year's Love and a Christmas Carol plus several one shots. I've also found time to parent and drink on weekends. **

**I'm impressed.**

**So, I had a huge discussion with a friend who writes Superman Returns but used to write a fairly well known GWTW fic which she didn't finish. She claims GWTW fans are awful at reviewing unlike comic fans. I defended you all, after all many of you have shown me love and believe me, it means a lot to me. But, she was a real jerk about it and that made me angry therefore I am asking you, if you enjoy this story, review it so I can rub it in her smarmy little face. LoL, I know not the best reason to want reviews, but she was really rude.**

**Thanks for reading guys, hopefully you'll see another chapter next week!**


	134. Julia

The inhabitants of Ashley Barony awoke to find only a few lingering traces of the previous night's ferocious storm. The leaves on the trees shimmered in the bright sunshine. Rainwater filled the ruts in the long front drive, creating the effect of a river winding up toward the house. Once the driveway was bluestone gravel but over the ensuing years since the war, the gravel had disappeared. Some was concealed under the dirt of the driveway but the rest was gone now. Before the war, it would have been the responsibility of two or three darkies to rake out the gravel, sifting it out from the dirt. Then, they would finish by drawing patterns in the gravel with long handled rakes. Every time a carriage rolled up and disturbed the pattern, the same darkies would return and rake it out once more.

Unfortunately, in the graceless world that existed since the war, the fields and orchards merited the attention of the few hands Julia could afford to retain.

It was Julia's intention to one day haul broken stones from down by the phosphorus mines to the Barony, and then have the stones broken down into pebbles. Once that was done, she could finally regravel the drive.

Sitting on the front porch, Julia enjoyed her morning coffee in peace. It was an ideal day to be alive, cloudless and warm, with long lacy wisps of clouds blowing across the sky. The hands would not begin work for another hour; presently peace was in the air. A lone squirrel chattered softly from the ornamental dogwood.

Pouring a hint more cream into her coffee, Julia's still lovely lips drew into a smug, self-satisfied smile. Wade Hamilton was a lovely boy inside and out. Last night, she'd had the opportunity to observe him at leisure. Ultimately, she was extremely pleased with what she saw. He was courteous when she was in the room, speaking when spoken to. He was kind, holding his young sister's hand when thunder rang out over the house at the height of last night's storm. He was intelligent, answering Julia's numerous questions with concise, well thought out replies.

In all, the boy would be perfect to father future generations of Ashleys.

A soft laugh escaped her lips, scaring off the squirrel in the dogwood. Watching it run across the lawn, Julia ruminated further on her future great- great nieces and nephews. Certainly they would bear the name Hamilton not Ashley, but that would make them no less Ashley in the eyes of Charleston. It couldn't hurt the family to bring in some fresh blood. Caroline was lucky. She was a lovely looking girl; the generations of inter-marriages between Coopers, Ashleys and Greers had honed her into an ethereal beauty. Not like poor Rita Rose, Caroline's second cousin, thought Julia. The girl had an overbite that was so pronounced the child was in jeopardy of being mistaken for a beaver.

Oh, she should try and be neutral in appraising Caroline's beauty, Julia thought, but why be coy about it? Caroline was one of the most beautiful young women she'd ever seen. Years of instruction taught her to comport herself with perfect manners and easy grace. Her only flaw was also her greatest attribute. Her beauty persuaded most people that she was pliable and easily led. It was only when her gray eyes narrowed and her unyielding, pointed chin tipped up, that one realized she would someday grow to be a young woman capable of taking care of herself in a complicated world.

As for Wade…his mother was a unique beauty. She shouldn't have been, for her features were an interesting hodgepodge of aristocrat and peasant. But, when coupled with her flawless skin, tiny waist and effervescent personality; she became the sort of woman men made complete fools of themselves over.

Case in point, Mr. Rhett Butler, added Julia wickedly. Last night he'd gone back to the Landing in driving rain, just to be with Scarlett. Bless his black heart, it was good to see that underneath the dark good looks and swaggering devil may care attitude, there was a man who loved his wife and her children deeply.

Yes, Scarlett's was attractive and her good looks were to be found in Wade's own appearance. His eyes were the same shape as hers except they were soft and brown instead of green. With any luck, that brilliant green color might have skipped a generation. If God was willing, Julia hoped to one day see those emerald eyes in the face of a great- great nephew.

As for Wade's father, well it was rather a shame he wasn't Rhett's natural son. What a handsome young man he would be then. She'd seen Rhett's daughter several times and the girl was beautiful. Then again, perhaps it was better that he wasn't Rhett's son. If he were, he might have inherited a dose of the Butler arrogance. All three Butler siblings had it, an inheritance from Stephen Butler. Though she loved Caroline dearly, that love did not blind her. Caroline was more than arrogant enough for them both.

Julia knew the Burrs of Macon whom Wade was related to and they were a handsome, if slightly washed out, people. Scarlett's healthy Irish peasant blood and the aristocratic bloodlines of the Robillard's had revitalized the worn out, over bred blood, giving her a very handsome son.

She'd drawn from Wade a few stories about his late father, but it seemed as if he'd been a rather shy young man who'd died in camp before meeting the enemy on the field of battle. There was a story there; why would someone like Scarlett marry a shy young man from a rather bookish, intermarrying family. Libby Watts would know, but if she resorted to picking Libby's brain for gossip, it would be all over Charleston and the surrounding counties by day's end that Julia Ashley was interested in the pedigree of Rhett Butler's stepson.

That would not do. The very idea of the housewives of Charleston titter tattling over their afternoon coffee about such a sensitive subject gave Julia hives. Better to pull of the match of the century first, then let those peahens gabble about it.

Combining Caroline's good looks and spunk with Wade's fine features and agreeable nature was as much a stroke of genius as combining the Landing and Ashley Barony.

From in the house, came the sounds of bickering children. Well, in all fairness to Scarlett's children and nephew, the bickering sounded fairly one sided. Rising from her chair, Julia drew closer to the window to listen to the children.

"I've already apologized twice, I'm not quite sure what else you want me to do?" Wade said, sounding irritated.

"I'd like you to actually sound sorry," replied Caroline peevishly.

"That's probably because I'm not really very sorry. How was I to know that you would have also liked blueberries in your waffles? Your Aunt's cook asked me if I liked blueberry waffles and I answered yes. I didn't know they were the last she had."

Caroline's arms crossed over her chest and she glared at Wade. Use to her cousins quaking under her near lethal glare, she was a little put out that Wade looked so unperturbed. "That doesn't sound like Rebah at all. She knows I like blueberries in my oatmeal and waffles. No, you must have asked for them and she felt it would be rude to refuse you since you're a guest."

"Maybe she asked because she doesn't like you since you are spoiled and rather rude," muttered Wade.

Wade's pronouncement set Beau off into a fit of giggles. "You hush," demanded Caroline before swinging back toward Wade. "I heard that," declared Caroline hotly. "You would think that your parents would have instilled better manners in you before letting you go visiting."

Afraid of being caught, Julia moved away from the window. The sound of a chair scraping back ignited her curiosity; one of them was about to leave the room. Which would it be?

"You pride yourself on your tremendous intellect, don't you Miss Greer?"

Wade, she thought, silently praising Caroline for standing her ground.

"I do," replied Caroline cautiously.

"Then it confuses me that you can never remember what I've told you about criticizing my mother."

Julia hazarded another peek. Leaning in, she saw Wade bow elegantly from the waist to his sister before departing the dinning room. 'Learned that from Rhett,' she thought smirking. He might be leaving the room, but it was Wade scored the final point in their exchange.

"Why Julia Ashley," whispered a delighted voice next to her ear, "do my eyes deceive me or are you actually spying? Who on?"

Julia's shoulders stiffed, but otherwise she gave no visible sign of being startled. "Sally Brewton, I thought Miles made you wear a bell to forewarn people of your eminent approach."

Sally laughed softly. "Just on the trap to warn pedestrians. Now, don't change the subject, who are you spying on?"

Smoothing her hands over an imaginary crease in her flawlessly arranged habit, Julia ignored Sally for a moment before replying offhandedly. "I'm not spying, don't be ridiculous."

An unladylike snort escaped Sally. "Alright, then what are you doing, inspecting the window sills?"

"You really are absurd. I was listening to the children talk."

"If they don't know that you are listening, then how is it that you aren't spying on them?"

"They are children. You can't spy on children, they don't have the right to privacy…not until they are at least eighteen, possibly twenty."

Grinning, Sally shook her head. "I heard that you sent the gaggle of nieces home. I was sorry to hear it, I was hoping to apply for the position you offered me as riding mistress."

"I sent two of them home, what of it," she said contemptuously.

"You said children, who is still here? Caroline I assume must have stayed. You can't stand to let her out of your clutches. Now the question is this, why more nieces?"

"Why do you care? And why do you assume its more nieces."

Sally shrugged. "It has to be, who else would entrust their children to you?"

"Don't slouch like that, you'll give yourself a hump."

Doubling over, Sally held her stomach as she laughed uproariously. When she finally could breath again, she grinned at Julia's present look of discomfort. "That's the best you can do to try and throw me off the scent? That's pathetic Julia, truly. Now, tell Auntie Sally all about it, what's going on here?"

"My, but aren't you nosy." Her voice had a frayed quality, a faint timbre of annoyance. Sally knew how to drive her out of her mind. It was a gift she'd always possessed, even as a small child.

"I am, shamelessly so, now spill. Who is here for breakfast?"

"You, it would seem," replied Julia dryly.

"I've already had my breakfast, but thank you for offering."

Julia, knowing when to accept defeat, sat down. "Coffee? It's still hot."

Sally nodded. "So, whose children are here visiting with Saint Caroline," she said, waiting for Julia to finish pouring out.

"Caroline is hardly a saint."

"The way you talk about her, you could have fooled me. I believe she must be a paragon of virtue. Suitable for praying to or casual holiday worship."

"You are awful, you do know that. I only hope that when that bolt from the blue finally does strike, I am close enough to see it hit you but not close enough to get hit too. As for Caroline, she is one of a kind." Her expression changed slightly, softening somewhat. "If you had a son, you'd be pleased to have Caroline for a daughter in law, wouldn't you?"

"What are you up to Julia?"

"Not a thing, just answer the question."

"Miles would be as eager to have a Greer as Rhett would be to have a Cross."

Julia's expression became defensive. "She's an Ashley too."

"That doesn't erase the Greer blood she's got flowing in her veins Julia."

"I wouldn't want to erase her Greer blood. Miles was always such a judgmental snob, but what about you? Would you be glad to have Caroline for a son of yours?"

"That's the pot calling the kettle a snob. But, it's a moot point since I don't have any sons." Sally's lips formed a small, knowing smile. "Julia Ashley, who is it that you're trying to marry Caroline off to?"

"Wade Hamilton, Rhett's stepson."

Her lips formed an O. Julia's forthright answer surprised her and it was all she could do to choke out. "Scarlett's boy?"

"That's the one."

"Julia, I'm surprised at you. I wouldn't think you'd have the boy for Saint Caroline."

With narrowed eyes and a swift motion, Julia poured herself another cup of coffee. "Why not?"

"Well, whether I love adore or not, I can acknowledge that Scarlett is the progeny of an Irish peasant. So that means Wade is the grandson of an Irish immigrant. Hardly the sort of bloodlines I would see you choosing for the girl."

"Scarlett's mother was a Robillard and her grandmother a Prudhomme. True, her father was a just off the boat Irishman, but I believe that has only improved her. She is vital, beautiful, and strong willed. As for the boy, his father was a Hamilton and they're kin to the Burrs. They, in turn, are distant kin to the Clarkes, which are my cousin Alexander's family. So Wade's a distant cousin to me and Caroline, several times removed of course."

"You know, I don't remember you being so forgiving when I wanted to marry Miles. Why are you so eager to see a marriage come off between Scarlett's son and Caroline?"

"When you wanted to marry Miles, it was because he looked quite nice in a pair of dancing britches."

Sally picked up a biscuit. "That wasn't the only reason."

"Oh Auntie Julia," said Julia, mimicking Sally with cruel accuracy, "he's so devastatingly handsome. I have to have him or I will just die, won't you ask his parents for me? Please Auntie Julia, if you do, I'll never ask for another thing from you, not ever." A snow white brow raised and she smiled sweetly, "Does that sound at all familiar?"

"You are a terrible Aunt."

"You are an ungrateful niece. And a liar, even after I got you Miles, you still asked for other things."

"Such as?"

"Did you or did you not just ask for another cup of coffee?"

Sally laughed. "You are an impossible old harpy, you do know that, don't you?"

"I pride myself on it."

"So explain to me your elaborate Ashley scheme for world domination. Why are you so sure that Wade will even inherit the Landing? Scarlett is very eager to give Rhett a baby and I suspect that what Scarlett wants, she gets."

"At present, with Scarlett's health in question, I don't know that they'll ever have any more children. You are correct, it's entirely possible that they might," Julia conceded, "but Rhett doesn't want to."

"He told Scarlett—"

"Whatever she wanted to hear Sally. I am fond of Rhett, but he has never had a problem telling a falsehood when the situation called for it. He won't willingly give her a child. Not if it endangers her health and he is convinced it will. He told me that just last night. If they don't have another child, he intends to leave the Landing to Wade. I've found a way to dower the Barony. If I can secure a match between Wade and Caroline, I can give Wade the Barony as a dowry. Then the squabbling clan of vultures I call a family will never be able to get their grubby paws on the Barony."

"Caw, Caw," squawked Sally sarcastically.

"Oh, I don't mean you and you know it. I mean the rest of them although, Lord love him, Miles would most definitely let your imaginary son marry a Greer if the Landing came with it."

Sally didn't bother to defend Miles; Julia wouldn't hear her anyway. She never heard anything that contradicted her point of view. Still, she had to ask, "What if Wade doesn't want to marry Caroline?"

"That's ridiculous, of course he'll want to marry her."

"He might not," Sally suggested gently.

"He'd be lucky to get her."

"I wouldn't say that to Scarlett, she might not take kindly to that. She sets a store by that boy."

"Then she should be over the moon at the prospect of her son marrying into my family."

"Scarlett isn't from Charleston, she might not know its such an honor," commented Sally wryly.

"Meanwhile, Rhett is from Charleston. He'll explain things to her. He's no fool, he'll make her see reason."

"As you say, Rhett is from Charleston. He knows that some of the Greers were…"Sally bit her lip.

Julia's brow quirked up, "Not some, one. One Greer was mad. Call a spade for what it is Sally. Maddie wasn't always mad."

"I know that, but whether Madison Greer was driven mad by that no account husband of hers or she started off mad isn't going to matter. People love to gossip, and next to gossip, people love embroidering a story. By the time it gets to Scarlett, she'll hear that half the Greer's were kept chained to walls in the basement of this house."

"We should have kept you chained to the wall," retorted Julia tartly, "it might have taught you some manners. As for the Greer's slightly sordid past, I will worry about that when I finally bring this proposition to Scarlett and Rhett. Don't worry Sally, I'll lay all the cards out on the table, I won't even keep an ace in my sleeve."

"Liar. You don't even hide cards; you just play with a marked deck. It's why I haven't played Whist with you in years. Julia, come on now, out with it, why is it so important that Caroline gets Ashley Barony? You'll be dead; it won't matter. Why do you care so much? You shouldn't waste life on worrying about what is going to come to pass after you're gone"

Julia looked stunned. For a moment, Sally thought about retracting her statement, but Julia answered before she could decide. "Not care about what happens to Ashley Barony? That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say and I've heard you say plenty. Not caring about the future of the Barony, that would make me not an Ashley. I schemed and I fought to preserve it through the war. It's not as it was, but it's still here and I will be damned if I go to my well deserved rest knowing those buffoons carved it up like a goose at Christmas."

"You can't force two children to fall in love with each other, no matter how hard you push."

"I won't have to push. He's quite taken with her, I can tell. As for Caroline, he infuriates her and vice versa."

"That recommends him as a bridegroom?"

"If the boy takes after his mother it certainly does. I think she married Rhett because he must have just about driven her out of her mind. As for Caroline, she keeps her emotions in check at all times. That this boy gets to her, it's a minor miracle. The fact that he does tells me that she's interested."

"This is madness."

"No, it's not Sally. This is my contribution to Ashley Barony. I thought it was the daffodils and preserving it through the war, but that wasn't it at all. I have to preserve it, intact, so that one day Caroline's children will inherit it."

"Say they do marry, what's to say they'll have children? Especially your much longed for boy, the family hasn't had much luck in that department in recent years."

"That's because the blood in this family is weak. For too long we were convinced that we were too good to marry outside the family. You breed horses and hounds Sally; you know what that does after a few generations. Wade will revitalize the blood and Caroline is healthy. Between the two of them, they'll give the Barony its future master or, if need be, mistress."

"I don't know if I've ever seen you so determined in my life."

"I've never been so determined."

"They might not fall in love Julia."

"Love? Bah. I don't believe in it." She waggled a finger at Sally, "Just so you know, if I hadn't thought Miles would be a good match for you, I would have never arranged things for you, not matter how deeply in love you thought yourself."

"Very nice, so what do you hope these two children will fall in to? Obligation, compatibility, like?" Sally rolled her eyes. "Yes, that's it. I hope they fall in like."

"Like is better than love by a country mile."

"How do you figure that?"

"Because love comes and goes. People fall into it and just like that, out of it again. Like generally endures. The same people I liked at twenty, I still like today."

"Of course you do, after all it is fairly easy to get along with the dead."

"Not everyone I knew at twenty is dead Miss Sally Sassybritches." Pouring another cup of coffee, Julia regarded Sally steadily. "By the way, why exactly were you skulking around my property on this lovely spring morning Mrs. Brewton?"

"I wasn't skulking, and you could ask if I'd like another cup," said Sally, holding out her coffee cup.

"Just as I said, always asking for something."

Sticking out her tongue, Sally leaned across the small table and took the coffee pot.

"If you were still Sally Rhodes, I would have you over the basin with a cake of soap in your mouth."

"I never minded, you always added rosehips and herbs to your soap, it was never really that bad of a taste. As I said, I wasn't skulking, I wanted to ask you something, but when I saw you with your ear pressed to the door, so to speak, I couldn't resist."

"What did you want to ask me?"

"Well, I must be a little bit gifted when it comes to knowing things, I actually wanted to talk to you about Rhett and Scarlett."

"Meddling?"

"I am, it must run in my family."

"If you mean me dear girl, I arrange things, that is completely different from meddling."

"I am sure that is what you tell yourself," said Sally. "But, that's neither here nor there, they bought Ella a pony. I was wondering if you knew how the introductions went? Poor Rhett, I know it still eats him up about the little one they lost. This couldn't have been easy for him."

"She hated it. Absolutely terrified from what he told me."

"That's a shame, I know the man he bought it from, and I assume it's a nice little thing."

"He said it was but she wouldn't budge from the doorway to the barn. Scarlett wasn't too happy."

Sally sighed. "Poor Scarlett, she always takes her fences like a good hunter. I don't think she understands what it is to –"

"I'm as hard bitten as they come and even I understand that sort of terror, so don't make excuses for Scarlett. Just because I like Scarlett and plan on having her as an in-law doesn't mean I can't see when she's wrong. Ella is a child whose baby sister broke her neck and died. I wish I knew what Rhett was thinking, putting a child that small up on a pony. Then again, I suppose he wasn't thinking."

"I suppose I should head over to the Landing and see how they are, would you like me to take the children back?"

"Would you, that would be nice of you."

"I'm a nice person."

"When the mood strikes you."

"There's just something about you Auntie that inspires me to be kind."

"Hoping the shock will kill me?"

Sally stood and brushed the crumbs off of her lap. "Nonsense, I hope you'll be around to vex me for many years to come." Leaning over, she brushed a quick peck on Julia's cheek, "I love you Julia, in spite of knowing you as well as I do."

With a sassy grin and a poorly executed curtsey, Sally retreated into the house before Julia could fire back a response.


	135. Sally

**Sorry this took so long to post. I blame it on Dani aka the fa-boo fanfic author colorofangels aka my new roommate. Yup, I now live with someone who is always willing to talk Gone With the Wind...**

**Best roommate ever!**

Scarlett was waiting for them on the back patio. She was dressed plainly; wearing a morning gown of crème colored bombazine trimmed with dark green velvet piping. Looking at her pale face with growing concern, Sally could only begin to speculate on what had happened.

"Children," she said pleasantly, her troubled eyes never leaving Scarlett's drawn, still face, "why don't you all run down to the barn and check on the new pony." It was not a suggestion. There was quiet authority in Sally's voice but, that was not enough to send Ella to the barn where she would have to come face to face with her fears. The boys clambered excitedly out of the back of the pony cart leaving Ella behind.

"No," came a soft whisper from behind Sally.

Sally wanted to be brusque, knowing instinctively that Scarlett needed her, but the little girl needed attention as well.

"Now, Ella," began Sally, picking the child up and handing her down to Wade. With a shy smile, Beau extended his hand to help her down. She accepted it with a grin before turning serious again. "Wouldn't you like to go and see the pony?"

Ella's bottom lip trembled, "I don't wanna," she mumbled softly before looking towards her mother for support. "Mama, I don't wa--

"It's want to Ella darling," corrected Sally, a warm smile on her face. "Go on, that poor little thing is probably so lonely down in the barn. What if it's missing its mommy and daddy? I will bet it's mighty lonely down there in that big, empty barn without any children to visit with. I wouldn't wonder if it was happy to be coming here knowing it would have a nice little girl to look after it."

The little girl chewed her lip apprehensively but finally, she nodded. "I was lonely without my momma, when I was at Tara." Still, she hesitated, turning over Sally's words in her mind, "It's not its fault I'm scared of it."

"That's true Ella," said Sally."

Looking at Sally with wide eyes, she asked "But what if it bites me?"

Taking his sister's hand, Wade squeezed it lightly. "It won't, and if it does, its only because he thinks you're as sweet as sugar. Come on, we'll run upstairs and get cleaned up, then we can stop in the kitchen and look for some apples and carrots. Sound good to you?"

Beau grinned brightly, "I can't wait to meet your pony Ella, what did you name it?"

"Nothing."

"That's a funny name for a pony," teased Sally.

The boys laughed and even Ella giggled a little. "I didn't name it anything yet," she clarified.

"Well then, that's an even better reason to go visit it. Everyone deserves a name."

Once she was sure the children were out of earshot, Sally dragged a chair next to Scarlett's. "What's in the crate over at my house," Sally asked without preamble.

"A baby carriage," Scarlett replied colorlessly.

"Expecting or hoping?"

"I thought I was expecting, now I'm not even hoping."

She nodded wearily, not wanting to hear the worst, but Scarlett needed a chance to let out the hurt she was visibly carrying. "Did you lose it?"

She shook her head. "No, there wasn't anything to lose." Her voice broke. "I thought I was going to have a baby, but I was wrong."

"Did you miscount the days?"

In her distress, Scarlett was blunt. She could not find the energy to be embarrassed at confiding in a woman who was still practically a stranger. "No. I was late, but I don't know why I let that convince me." She flushed. "I'm usually late," she continued in a low voice, "only this time, I thought it could be a baby, but it wasn't. It wasn't a baby, it was just me being a fool." Looking at Sally, she shook her head; "I didn't lose a baby, so why does it feel like I did? I feel like I lost the most precious thing in the world and it hurts and I can't make it stop hurting."

"Scarlett, honey, I am so sorry."

"I keep telling myself it wasn't a miscarriage, but it feels like it, just the same?" She did not make a sound, but tears pooled in her green eyes before sliding down her cheeks.

"What did Rhett say?"

"Nothing." Panic flared in her eyes, "I've said nothing about this to him, and neither can you. I didn't tell him I thought I was expecting and now that I'm not, I don't want to talk to him about this. It won't help and he'll only be upset."

"It might help if you-."

"No. Trust me, I know it won't. You may know him a lot longer than I have, but I know what he'll say. He'll tell me everything I want to hear but he'll be glad. I would see it, it would be in his eyes, in his voice. I can't face that just yet. I can't listen to him tell me that I should be grateful that I misdiagnosised myself. I can't hear him tell me that I should be happy I lost my dream." Taking a small, hitching breath, she pleaded, "Please, promise me you won't say anything."

"Darling, I promise," said Sally sincerely, "what ever you want to tell me will stay here, just between the two of us."

Scarlett exhaled softly the breath she'd been unaware of holding. "I never knew it would be so hard to not have a child. I always thought it was so awful to be pregnant, I thought it was so degrading and unfair that women always got stuck. Now, I would give anything for a baby and I wonder, when did that happen to me? When did I decide that it was a blessing and not a curse to be carrying a child? I wonder if I, if I would still be this desperate for a baby if I wasn't so afraid that it won't ever happen again?"

Her emotions overcame her, but this time she turned her head so that Sally would not see the signs of weakness in her face. Thinking herself composed, she finally turned her attention back toward Sally. "I just want…I just want…" Her head fell forward and she could not stop the tears that fell nor could she find the strength to attempt to conceal them.

"Miles and I tried for years to have a baby," said Sally in a subdued voice, "did you know that?"

A shake of Scarlett's head, once to the left then again to the right was the only indication that she'd heard Sally's admission.

Sally took that as a sign to continue. "I wanted a houseful of children; screaming, muddy, naughty, bickering brats; ten of them, at least. But then, the first year went by and not even a scare. Then two years passed and then five but no babies. We never spoke of it. Miles never blamed me and I appreciated that. He could have blamed me, because he knew that at least he was capable."

Scarlett's full attention was on Sally now, her eyes wide with shock at the implication in Sally's words. Sally shrugged, acknowledging Scarlett's surprise but not apologizing for what she'd said. "He has a daughter. I know it's scandalous that I know, but I do know."

"Miles had an affair? When, surely, not recently? The two of you seemed so happy at Saint Cecilia's, I envied the way he treated you. I wouldn't have known that you weren't happy together."

"We are happy Scarlett, now. When it happened, it was a bad time for us. I wasn't very kind or very easy to live with. Afterwards, I regretted how I behaved, but the damage was already done. He has never rubbed it in my face; in fact, I don't think he even knows that I knew. That's a man for you." She smiled sadly, "She's pretty, his daughter. She looks like him, especially around the mouth and eyes."

"Does he see her? Do you? Do you have to see her when you go to church or in the markets? How can you bear knowing that Miles has a child?"

"I don't have to see her. They moved, her and her mother, about fifteen years back." She folded her hands in her lap. "I was so grateful. I'm not a jealous women Scarlett, but I envied the girl's mother. Not because she'd slept with my husband, it happened during a time when we weren't able to stay in the same house without fighting so I'm glad in a way that Miles had someone to comfort him. I admit to you something I've never said to anyone except Julia, what I envied her was that little girl. I begrudged her that child with every fiber of my being."

The honest, still raw grief in Sally's usually chipper voice slowly drew Scarlett out of her own misery. "When you knew that you wouldn't have a child, how did you accept it? How did you know that you…did you think that…I don't know what it is I'm trying to ask you."

"Let me see if I know. You're trying to ask me how did I know that it would be all right to wake up and know that I wasn't going to be a mother. I can't answer that for you because even now, it still makes me sad sometimes. You are so lucky Scarlett, even if it doesn't feel that way just now. You have Wade and Ella. You are still a fairly young women, don't give up hope just like that because this time you were met with disappointment. It can still happen, but even if it doesn't, you have children who love you. Be grateful for what you have. I'm not telling you not to hope or that this is God's will. Who in their right mind says that? I don't know what possesses people." Changing veins, she asked, "You love Wade and Ella, don't you?"

"I do. It surprises me how much. But they were accidental, there in my life whether I wanted them or not."

Sally smiled unintentionally. "That's usually the way of it darling."

"That's why I wanted this baby, I wanted something different from how its always happened before. This time Sally, this was going to be right. Something in my life finally planned instead of just happening. I wanted it to be this." She sighed harshly. "Nothing for me has ever been the way it is for other women. I didn't want a family or a little nest to look after while my big, strong husband was off doing things I wasn't smart enough to understand. Maybe before the war, I might have at least tried to convince myself those things would make me happy, but after, I knew that I wanted things that were different from what other women want. I don't understand why I'm not like them. They all want the same things and I don't. I didn't."

Her voice rose until the anguish in it cut Sally deeply. "I don't even know what it is that I want now. I feel like I'm being pulled in so many directions and eventually something's going to have to give." She wiped her streaming eyes with her sleeve, heedless of the impression she must be making.

"I see now why Julia likes you so much. The fact that you don't fit in, that you never have, makes you perfect for this time, for this south. You may not have fit before the war, but now is a new world. A scary world where everything is so different from how it was before. There are an awful lot of people who can't think of how to survive in the here and now. They just moan about the old days. There are women here who I can't stand to be in the same room with because of their bemoaning fate."

"Sally, I think you're wrong. I don't think Julia likes me all that much, most women don't. The women back home, they all hated me in Atlanta, maybe it's just a matter of time 'till no one talks to me here either."

Sally sniffed dismissively. "Atlanta, oh don't get me started on Atlanta. It's practically a provincial backwater, at least in my less than humble opinion. I used to tease Rhett whenever he would head there." A wicked grin fleetingly shaped her pretty lips. "Too bad I didn't know what it was bringing him there so often, I would have teased him twice as hard."

Sally's vehement dislike of Atlanta came as a surprise to Scarlett. While she was coming to enjoy certain aspects of living in Charleston, she'd by no means gone native. To her, Atlanta had a raw vitality that was definitely lacking in Charleston. The staid pace of Charleston sometimes frustrated her, occasionally boring her nearly to tears, whereas in Atlanta it always seemed as if there was something going on. In all honesty, she would have thought that Atlanta's vitality would have appealed to someone as energetic as Sally. "You don't like Atlanta?"

"Not particularly," Sally said, sounding unapologetic, "I would pass through when I would go to visit Beatrice Tarleton but even then, it was just so pressed in. I suppose after years of growing up on the water, its damn near impossible for me to be happy away from it. I could never live landlocked like that." Her expression softened, becoming speculative "But you like it here with all of us in Charleston, don't you Scarlett? I mean to say, you don't want to go back, do you?"

"I suppose I do like it here," said Scarlett reaching up to toy with the pendant hanging from her necklace, "but when I look around, its just very far removed from where I grew up. Charleston is just as different for me as Atlanta was for you."

She nodded thoughtfully. "How old were you when you first went to live in Atlanta?"

"Seventeen."

"You were still just a girl, why did you move to Atlanta?"

Scarlett grew very still, unable to turn toward Sally and make eye contact. "I was depressed after Wade. I hated being a widow. My mother and our family doctor thought I brokenhearted after my husband died."

"That's natu-,"

"No, you don't understand," Scarlett insisted, finding that she wanted to finally unburden herself to someone, especially when that someone was as understanding as Sally Brewton seemed to be, "the reason I was so upset was that I didn't want to wear black and sit out the rest of the dances and never have any fun again. I know that sounds selfish," Scarlett added hurriedly, "but…"

"Nonsense, it doesn't sound selfish at all. There's nothing wrong with wanting to look young and be young while you are young."

She sucked in a breath, temporarily stunned at hearing Ellen's words repeated nearly verbatim. "That's just what my mother once said."

"Ellen Robillard was a smart girl. Honey, you were a baby yourself when you had Wade. It must have been awful for you, married at how old, sixteen, seventeen? Then just to rub salt in the wound, your husband up and dies and not even heroically on the field of battle so you could at least feel as if he'd given something to the war effort."

Scarlett's head titled thoughtfully, "How do you know how Charlie died, I can't remember telling you, did I?"

Sally's left eyelid twitched spasmodically, but in the bright mid morning sun, Scarlett failed to notice. It was what Julia, in a pleasantly malicious voice, referred to as 'Sally's tell,' when they would play cards. "You must have mentioned it when you told me about Tara and your family. Or maybe Eleanor or Rhett mentioned it. I assume he was under Wade Hampton, considering your son's name," said Sally, changing the subject slightly.

"Yes he was."

God bless Scarlett and her limited ability to pay attention, thought Sally. "We'll go and call on him when you're feeling better. We can bring Wade along to meet him. Ham will love that, he'll stuff the boy's head full of war stories and before we go, we'll ask about getting Wade into a good school in the fall. Ham knows everyone, he'll see to it for you."

Scarlett did not reply and Sally felt no need to push her. They sat together, enjoying the warmth of the sun for nearly twenty minutes before Scarlett broke the silence. "Why do you care so much about what happens to me and my children? Is it because of Rhett? Has he asked you to-- to befriend me?"

There, thought Scarlett, at least I've asked. But how mortifying that would be, she thought, her stomach swiftly clenching, to have her husband cajoling his friends into befriending her.

The older woman chuckled softly. "Rhett was surprised I think, that I took to you so strongly. He knows me too well sometimes. I am a Charleston snob through and through." Her expression became distant, then amused, "Do you remember the first time we were formally introduced?"

Scarlett shrugged dismissively, "Of course I do, it wasn't that long ago."

"Are you so certain? I remember it very clearly and it was some time ago."

"Well, I suppose how long ago you think it was depends on your definition of long."

"Thirteen years is a long time to me."

Sally had finally won Scarlett's undivided attention. "I think you're mistaken, it was in November that we first met, the night I arrived at Miss Eleanor's house. You were there with Anne Hampton and Emma Anson, if I remember correctly."

She shook her head. "Not so my dear. The first time I met you was when your Aunt brought you to the house Miles and I used to own on Meeting Street." She smiled faintly, "I miss that house a great deal but after the war," she shrugged, "ah, no help for it now."

"I think you're confused Sally, I don't remember meeting you in a different house from the one you have now."

"Don't you? I remember it vividly. I felt so sorry for you; you were so young, too young to be wearing widow weeds. You were also pale, very much like a china doll, but that was because of all that awful black mourning. I even remember that dreadful hat with the crêpe veil you were wearing. You were positively bored out of your mind and then, do you remember how you chose to liven things up…" Sally grinned at the now horrified look on Scarlett's face, "Because I certainly do, you began to speak in the most exaggerated Irish brogue I'd ever heard in all my born days. After your aunt hustled you out, I excused myself. Do you know, I laughed and laughed till I cried."

Scarlett's eyes closed and a faint croaking sound escaped her lips. From deep beneath forgotten half memories of that first awful year of her widowhood, came the name of the woman who was the hostess of the at home where she'd misbehaved during her disastrous visit in 1862.

Brewton, Mrs. Sally Brewton.

At seventeen, it had been amusing, a way to embarrass her aunt and liven things up a little. Unfortunately, what was amusing at seventeen was not always as amusing years after the fact. Opening her eyes, Scarlett looked at Sally. "I forgot that I'd met you before."

Laughing lightly, Sally beamed. "All I ask is that you don't ever tell that to Julia Ashley. I pride myself on making a lasting impression. Now, to be honest, I didn't recognize you right away. It was while I was talking to Pauline at the market, she mentioned that you were in town. I remembered the young woman who set my at home on its pompous ear and realized you and she were one in the same."

"You decided to be my friend because I made a spectacle of myself when I was younger," asked Scarlett skeptically, her initial mortification subsiding slightly.

"No, I wanted to be your friend because you are a breath of fresh air. That may sound a little trite, but it's true. You were refreshing at seventeen and you still are now."

Quirking a brow, Scarlett lifted her shoulders slightly, "How so?"

"Anyone else, if their husband left them, would crawl into a hole and cry themselves silly," said Sally, responding to the implied challenge in Scarlett's voice.

"Who says I didn't do that," said Scarlett softly.

"Did you," challenged Sally.

"For a little while," she admitted finally, "when I accepted that he wasn't going to come back on his own."

"So instead of taking life and Rhett as they came, instead of telling yourself it's just the way things are, what did you do? You packed your bags and came here to fight." She clapped her hands together lightly to emphasis her point, "Well played madame, well played."

"Be serious," admonished Scarlett, glancing toward the house.

"I am being serious. I admired your bravery and I want you to know, I was rooting for you all along."

"Why though?" Her brow wrinkled thoughtfully, "You've done so much for me and I don't know why? I can't not know Sally, it would drive me mad."

"I've done everything I have for you because of the look on your face that first night. When Rhett came into the parlor with the tea tray, I saw the way you came to life. It was something special to see, something that moved me deeply. I could see that you loved one of my oldest and dearest friends with your whole heart, and I knew then that you were worthy of any aid I could provide." Sally's expression softened. Reaching out, she took Scarlett's hand and squeezed, "Feeling any better?"

"A little," admitted Scarlett, "thank you for everything Sally. Its…" she stumbled over the words, still a little wary about letting this woman into her private self, "its nice to feel wanted for a change."

"May I give you a piece of completely unsolicited advice?"

"Could I stop you," replied Scarlett with a wry smile.

She shook her head before turning serious. "Tell Rhett everything. Secrets have a way of not staying secret."

"You promi-" Scarlett began.

"Not from my lips is he going to hear a word of anything you told me, but if you keep all this inside, its going to fester and eventually turn to gangrene. What part of yourself are you willing to hack out when that happens? If you go on feeling the way you do now, trying to pretend you feel just fine, you are going to break into pieces."

Her expression beseeching, begging the older woman to understand. "He would be furious Sally."

"He'll only be more so if he finds out you concealed things from him."

She licked her lips nervously. "I'm doing this for his own good."

"I've never much cared for people doing things for my own good, have you?"

She thought of Rhett, the man she loved with everything in her that knew the meaning of the word Love, as she understood it, meant going to extraordinary measures to protect the people who mattered most and for her, that was Rhett. Rhett mattered to her in a way that would have once been inconceivable to her.

Her head began to throb. Surely, keeping all of this from his was the right thing to do, she thought. What could be gained by burdening him with her own heartache? Heartache he could not and, most likely, would not understand. "I'm trying to do what's best, for the both of us."

"It's too bad he won't see it that way,"

A cold and terrible fear wrapped around her heart, chilling her blood despite the warmth of the day. "I appreciate everything you've done for me Sally, but let me deal with this in my own way."

Sally studied Scarlett intently but Scarlett looked back, her steady gaze never wavering "I wish you luck," she conceded.

"Thank you Sally, thank you very much. I do feel a little better now. I can at least breathe again. That's an improvement over how I felt before you arrived."

"It's what I'm here for," said Sally airily, not wishing to embarrass Scarlett. "Now for a new subject; I was thinking, Wade needs to start taking dance lessons, or did he in Atlanta?"

"Dance? No, he was out in the country for an extended period of time and certainly out there no one would be teaching dancing classes."

"He's thirteen?"

"He is."

"Then he'll need to start this year, all the boys and girls do here, every week. It's a social thing as well as learning how to waltz properly."

"He won't want to."

"Then make him. It's a tradition, one that people have clung to despite the change in their circumstances. I did it, Caroline Greer takes dance lessons, why even Rhett trotted off to dance lessons as a boy."

"I wonder if that's where he learned to dance so well," Scarlett commented with a ghost of her usual smirk.

"I doubt it, he was abysmal. He would spend half the lesson trying to purposely step on my toes and the other half trying to scare me with a dormouse he found on the way to our lesson. I was the only one who'd put up with him.""

"It's odd to hear about Rhett as a boy." She smiled a little. "I only half believe he ever was one."

"He was though, you take my word for it." Sally became thoughtful. "It's strange; he fits back in just as if he never left."

"He does fit here, doesn't he?"

"Of course he does, he's a part of Charleston and that can never really change,. Rhett's finally come to understand that despite how hard he once tried to convince himself to the contrary." She glanced out across the yard. "If this is where you intend to stay, then there are things that you will have to conform to."

"Things such as," Scarlett asked, a cool note creeping into her voice.

Sally waved her hand dismissively. "Don't get your fur up, I like how you are your own person and you know that. But, another part of what is delightful about you is how you've tried to fit yourself in with our ways. Take for instance your wardrobe, when you arrived you had on that over decorated brown and tan walking costume. It was frightful; something that the wife of a carpetbagger would wear."

"I don't think it was that bad, in Atlanta…"

"I know that in Atlanta it's a different standard from Charleston. Emma Anson commented on your outfit the instant we got into the carriage. I pointed out that you seemed to be charming and quite in love with Rhett so what did it matter if your taste in dresses was a little ostentatious. I figured I might have to defend your fashion sense again but the next time I saw you, you'd obviously realized that you needed to blend in a little better."

No, Scarlett thought ruefully, left to her own devices, she would have continued to dress inappropriately. Rhett was the one who told her to rein in her wardrobe. "Was my dress really so bad?"

Sally grinned. "Oh honey, it was terrible. I imagine in Atlanta, it would be alright but here, people are terribly conscious of have and have not. Most people can't have, so most of us take the path of have not. I am glad that you saw that right away and decided to dress accordingly. Emma mentioned that to me about a month after you arrived. That you were obviously trying to fit in. She approved heartily of your efforts, we all do. You are trying to fit in Scarlett and everyone sees it."

"I'm not very good at it, I mean, fitting in," she added, wanting to clarify her previous statement.

"Nonsense, you've been doing fine. The longer you are here, the better you will do," Sally reassured her.

"But you think I could be doing better than just fine," Scarlett perceived shrewdly.

"I think," ventured Sally slowly, " that, given time, you could be a very great lady."

She turned away, but before she did, Sally saw the pain in Scarlett's eyes. Somehow, completely without intending to, she'd wounded Scarlett.

Deeply.

**A/N's**

**So I notice, I am almost at 2,000 reveiws! Wow, I don't know how to thank everyone enough for your unflagging encouragement and support.**

**...And Brody continues to be awesome, best spoiler ever. 100 points in the game of life if you know what this refers to :D**


	136. Helen

**Thanks to Dani for corrections from the other couch.**

**Thanks to Beth for starting the monster task of betaing some of the older chapters**

**Thanks to HBO for being free all weekend, oh Atonement why are you such an awesome movie?**

**Oh and in advance, thanks for not shooting the messanger after you all read this chapter. **

Turning his collar up against the rain, he shivered as some errant drips ran down his back. It was raining now, the weather turning over the last few hours. Earlier in the day, the sky was the same unfathomable blue as the sea off the shores of Nice but now, the late afternoon had turned gloomy and prematurely dark.

He wanted to show her the world, to give her all the happiness she'd given him, but she refused. It surprised him, that refusal. In honesty, it cut deeply. He'd thought she would want to shop in London, attend a ball in Milan, bathed in the deep blue sea off the shore of Nice, but she'd demurred.

Pausing outside the sporting house, he felt a brief flicker of indecision. The wind was picking up, keening softly as it traveled through the narrow alleyways of the city. He'd hoped to head back home before nightfall, but the weather was proving to be detrimental to his plans.

It had been some time since he'd last sought out the company of a prostitute. Charleston was a different world, far removed from any of the places he'd previously resided. Where once he wouldn't have hesitated to take pleasure wherever it could be found, now he had to take into consideration the opinions of his acquaintances, neighbors and peers.

The feelings of Scarlett, those too should be taken into consideration. If she knew what he was about to do, she would be disgusted and distinctly disillusioned.

A brief moment of hesitation before going upstairs when his hand hovered briefly above the banister.

Scarlett.

He planned to wait for her, until she was well again, but his need and the weakness of desiring flesh won out over the inclination to be faithful to his feelings for her.

Selecting a girl proved an arduous task. Initially, he'd been offered a young girl with deep red curls, but she reminded him of someone now best forgotten, someone who indeed no longer existed so he'd politely, but firmly declined. The second girl, a tall, willowy Creole girl was attractive but her voice, softly accented with the drawl of her New Orleans upbringing put him off. He wanted nothing to remind him of past exploits, of past experiences.

The girl he settled on was a petite brunette, no older than eighteen. Her eyes more hazel than green but that only counted in her favor. No one but Scarlett had such deeply expressive green eyes. Her mouth was a touch too generous and her cheekbones were too prominent; however, she was the same build and height so, if he closed his eyes, he could almost believe it was Scarlett.

He cared for her deeply, despite his current indiscretion. He'd never felt for a woman what he felt for Scarlett. He'd never waited as long for a woman as he'd waited for Scarlett, but he could not live a celibate life. The monistic lifestyle had never held any great appeal for him. A self-imposed life of celibacy, held even less.

For her, when he could finally be with her, fully and completely with her, he could be monogamous, but while being denied the succor of her bed and willing body, he needed these less than honorable assignations.

She thought she held the upper hand, she was arrogant, sure of her good looks. Her arrogance was part of what appealed to him. Once they were in her room, she reached for him immediately, eager to ply her skills, but before she could touch him, he held up a hand. "Wash that paint off your face."

She managed to look nonplussed at his unexpected request. "Why?"

He sat in a chair near the window, watching her with a cool, indecipherable expression. She tried to keep eye contact with him, but after a few seconds, she lowered her gaze. He liked the small spark of spirit she'd just shown by questioning his unorthodox request. It amused him, that she thought she would dominate him with her face and body when in fact it was she who was about to be dominated. "Because I told you to, that is the only reason you need and the only explanation you'll receive. Do as I say."

Watching her scrub her face clean of the cosmetics she'd applied earlier with a heavy hand, he waited until she finished before commanding, "Your hair, take it down."

She looked at his reflection in the mirror over the chest of drawers. Her confident expression slipped a little. "But…"

"Do as I say."

There was a subtle change in her. Reading his expression correctly, she could tell that he was a man used to getting what he wanted. What it was that he wanted remained to be seen. Already he was making her nervous with his requests and unwavering gaze. Miss Minna, the madame of the house, frowned on customers getting rough with the girls but, if the gentleman was willing to part with enough money, she would overlook just about anything.

Without being asked, she drew a brush through her hair. The brush snagged on a knot and she flinched involuntarily. She thought she saw a brief smirk on his face but the expression was gone before she could look long enough to say for certain.

Turning to face him, she gestured toward her peignoir. "Does this meet sir's approval?" There was ill concealed venom in her voice.

"You won't be wearing it long enough for it to matter." He crooked his pointer finger, "Now, come here."

An unabashed, amused smirk settled on her face. Finally, they were back on ground that was more familiar. "All the way over there?" She pouted a little before beginning a slow, undulating saunter across the room.

Reaching his side, she leaned down, giving him a generous view of her cleavage. Intending to trail her fingers down his arm, she stretched out her hand. Before she could begin to methodically run through her tricks, he caught her around the waist, swiftly pulling her onto his lap. She was startled, her breathing and heartbeat quickening at his touch. The confident, experienced harlot was gone, replaced by a frightened young woman whose body nervously tensed at his touch.

Softly, he ran the tips of his fingers down her spine, smiling to himself when she shivered delicately.

Had he ever pretended that he was making love to one woman while in reality bedding another before he'd met Scarlett? No. Because, until meeting Scarlett, there had never been any woman he'd desired that hadn't been his for the taking.

The girl on his lap twisted and he gave her an absentminded slap on the bottom. She stilled and, thinking she deserved a reward of sorts, he parted the front of her sheer robe.

Tracing lazy circles just below her breast, he then allowed his hand to wander up while losing himself in the warmth of her flesh beneath his fingertips. It was so cliché, the way they'd first met. Meeting her in such an unexpected way, speaking to her during their all too brief first meeting. It was so rushed, somewhat hazy in his recollection but from those few, stolen moments, he'd known. Known that in all the world, there could never be any woman that suited him so well as she.

Thoughts of the betrayal his body was about to commit made him less inclined to be kind. His hold on her breasts tightened, bringing a wave of pain to the now frightened girl. She was sniffling now. Seeking to cut her sobs off, his mouth clamped down on hers, his tongue finding easy access as his left hand continued to tease her nipple.

Inexplicably, anger had come. He was here, with this pound of paid for flesh, because of her. This was her fault, for tempting him when he needed most to resist. She knew the effect that she had on him, how could she not? He could read the look of triumph in her eyes when she would catch him looking at her with naked desire.

She knew him as no one did and he could not help feeling that she had no right to know him so well. She was the cause of and solution to everything. She was a manipulative bitch. She was the only woman he wanted, the only woman he needed.

In equivalent measures, he loved her and despised her.

She was in his blood, in his dreams; his waking moments were filled with her. He knew that she was proud of the power she wielded over him, adding him to the numerous notches on her proverbial gun belt, or in her case, garter belt.

Though she was careful of showing it, she was obviously proud of the power she had over most men under the age of eighty. It must be amusing to her, to know that she held power over a man such as he. She'd broken him and in the end, it was with a minimal amount of effort.

"Mister?" Her faintly shrill voice broke through.

"Shh."

"Aren't we going to," she gestured toward the bed with a tilt of her head. "Miss Minna will send someone if…"

"No, she won't"

By the certitude in his voice, she knew he must have bought her for far longer than the usual amount of time. She wanted him out of her room, now. The sooner they concluded their business, the sooner he would leave. Mentally gritting her teeth, she asked while wriggling closer.

"What do you want honey?"

Threading his fingers in her hair, he tilted her head back. Without giving her a chance to question his intentions, he kissed her deeply until he drew the first stirring of passion from her. They kissed for several minutes before he drew back.

She was slightly out of breath, her previous reluctance fading a little in light of the masterful way he'd just kissed her. "You shy honey? You can tell Helen." She giggled softly. "Come on, don't be shy, what do you want?"

He brushed his lips over her ear before whispering his reply, "For you not to speak."

"Don't sound like who I'm supposed to, do I," she challenged, regretting her words immediately.

Running his thumb over her still rouge stained lips, he pressed down, without any real pressure, but the implication was obvious. "She is a lady, there is no mistaking you for anything more than you are."

He felt her lips move briefly under his fingertip, but the look in his dark eyes must have convinced her that silence was that silence was the better part of valor. He was hurting her now, his grip tight on her waist, his fingers buried in her soft flesh. She wanted to scream at him, to spit in his handsome face but instead she looked down to where his hand still cupped her breast.

Her eyes slid closed, resigned to whatever was about to come.

**...And Brody continues to be awesome, best spoiler ever. **


	137. A battle renewed

**Sorry everyone who thought I was dead. My daughter had another biopsy recently and it didn't go well. It took me a long time to really want to post again. Especially since its not a very cheery chapter.  
My A/N at the bottom should crack some of you up. I once had a very diffrent view of how long I would really be writing this story.**

Her head jerked up, the pad in her lap, filled with figures and lists, slid to the floor, unheeded. Lost as she was in the depths of misery over her recent disappointment, she still sensed his silent presence in the doorway of the small room she'd recently annexed as a sitting room.

His eyes locked with hers. The intensity in his dark gaze made her shiver lightly. The way he studied her without uttering a syllable made her begin to perspire. A single bead of sweat rolled down her spine. She could feel its progress down her skin.

"Scarlett?" There was no anger in his voice, no heated inflection that specifically told her what it was that he wanted to discuss, but still…he knew something. Secrets! She had so many, despite vowing to him that there would be no more lies, nothing more concealed.

Suddenly, she wished then that he would rant and roar, his voice always sounded all the more threatening for its feigned calmness

If only she had a chance to get away, to flee upstairs to the sanctuary of their bedroom. Had she but known that he wanted to speak to her she could have escaped before he tried to confront her. Now it was too late, it wouldn't be long before he started to hound her for answers that she was not willing to give him.

"Scarlett?" There was insistence now, an arrant demand for a reply.

She gave him a long, emotionless look. Her expression was guarded, only her eyes betrayed her inner turmoil. "Yes? What is it Rhett?"

The tension in the air was virulent. They could both feel it, hanging heavy between them. A heaviness that was, unfortunately, not new to their relationship. It first appeared during their honeymoon, the night he stormed out leaving her alone. Absent since their reconciliation, last night when he'd returned to find her sitting in her nightgown in the dark, refusing to tell him what was wrong, their truce cracked and now that old, long familiar heaviness returned with a vengeance.

If she were forced to guess the nature of possible topics, she would suppose that he wanted to know what she had discussed earlier in the day with Sally. Approaching them with his usual cat like stealth, he hadn't heard enough of the conversation to discern its topic but from their carefully composed expressions when they noticed him, he knew the conversation was serious.

Knowing him as she did, she knew he wouldn't rest until he knew what they'd discussed.

Thank God for the children, she thought fervently. The children, with their bright chatter about Caroline and their evening at Julia Ashley's, they alone managed to keep his questions at bay, but they were gone now, retiring early, worn out from the previous day at Ashley Plantation and the time they'd spent acquainting Ella with her new pony.

He smoothly fired his first salvo. "I have a question for you, who is Adolph Meinecke?"

Her whole body sagged for an instant, shock at hearing that name on his lips made her momentarily weak. Through numb lips, she managed to murmur. "I'm sure I don't know to whom you might be referring?"

There, she thought with a fleeting moment of anguish at this continuance of duplicity, she sounded questioning, but in no way fearful.

His voice, warm and close to her ear asked, "Don't you?" His voice enveloped her like dark silk. With those two words, he was able to convey volumes.

Slowly, she raised her head to meet his intent gaze. She was Katie Scarlett O'Hara. Through her O'Hara father and her Robillard mother, she was descended from the Kings of Ireland and France. She'd be damned to everlasting torment in the fires of hell before she would allow him to cower her with a raised brow and a supercilious tone of voice.

Sally! She gritted her teeth. How could she have gone against her long held position on never trusting women? Would Sally have told him despite her promise to the contrary? He knew at least something about the secret she'd intended on keeping, but how much? How much did he know? The only way to find out would be to step directly into the fire. Previous experience gave rise to the hope that she could emerge unscathed. "Do you mean Mr. Adolph Meinecke of Milwaukee?"

"I don't know, do I," he asked icily.

Come out and ask you bastard, she thought furiously, saying as much when she spoke but in words that were far more neutral. "I don't like guessing games Rhett, is there something you'd like to ask me?"

His eyes were cold, looking at her as if seeing her clearly for the first time in a long time. She could not read what was behind his cool manners and he looked at her as though they'd only been recently introduced. They were strangers once more his expression told her.

There was temptation, a fleeting moment, a split second when she considered throwing herself into his strong arms. She could allow herself the luxury of breaking down in his embrace, confessing to him every last secret, including the truth about his sister and Jason Cross.

There was still time. She could make him understand before he drew his own conclusions about why she'd done...

"I believe I just asked you a question, but if you'd like, I will elaborate further." His drawl was sharp as he carefully enunciated each word. "Who is Adolph Meinecke and why would you send him a wire transfer for close to two hundred dollars?"

Damn it, he knows, she thought. "Were you going through my things," she asked evenly, choosing to go on the offensive. "That's the only way you'd know that I'd sent Mr. Meinecke money. I wasn't aware that I was under suspicion, my possessions subject to being searched."

A savage frown marked his dark face. "I was not going through your things, I was looking for several bills of sale for some of the things you ordered. I thought you might have them in your desk."

Her heart was hammering in her throat, threatening to choke her. Tell him the truth, she thought, tell him that you thought there was going to be a baby, but then there wasn't. "I keep those in a folder in the cabinet behind my desk. If you still need those bills of sale, I could go and get them for you."

Yes, anything to escape the room, to leave and regroup. This was her chance to decide what to tell him, to decide if she would tell him anything.

"I don't need them anymore."

"You said you did need them, its really no trouble, I could go and get them." She rested her hand on the arm of her chair, her other hand reaching for her cane.

"I found everything that I needed."

Swallowing convulsively, she nodded tautly. "Good, only please, if you need anything else from my desk, will you let me know? I have all of my papers organized." She forced a trill of what she hoped sounded like careless laughter. "I know it seems as if they are just tossed there, willy nilly, but I do have a system in place."

"I apologize if I moved anything I shouldn't have," his said, the lack of warmth in his voice chilling her.

Forcing a smile, she shrugged. "I'm sure if you have, I'll figure it out."

That brought a humorless smile to his lips. "I've no doubt you will. You've always been very good at putting things in order to suit yourself."

Sensing an insult but finding that she had no reply, she only nodded stiffly before leaning forward to pick up her pad of paper. Seizing on the lull in conversation, she began to work in earnest, occasionally referring to the papers on the table beside her chair.

Settling himself on the sofa, Rhett lit a cigar, not bothering to ask if she minded. He knew that she didn't, but he often asked her, teasingly, in his most courtly manner. She waited for him to speak or work on his sketches for the Landing, but he remained silent, his attention wholly focused on the thin stream of smoke coming from the glowing end of his cigar.

She could feel his eyes on her, but she knew to look up would invite him to question her further. Perhaps, if she ignored him, he would let his curiosity pass for the time being.

"Scarlett," he said, his voice breaking the strained silence.

And maybe pigs would sprout wins and fly, she thought sourly.

"Yes?" Her voice broke, betraying her agitated state.

"You didn't answer my question, what was the two hundred dollars for?"

Her palms were sweating and she tried to surreptitiously wipe them on her skirts. "Didn't I? It was something I bought."

"I gathered that you bought something from him, what did you buy?"

"I bought something for the house."

His eyes closed for a moment before he sighed softly. "What did you buy?"

She looked up from the papers, trying to keep her breathing even "I beg your pardon?"

She could hear her own heart, pounding violently in her ears. Suddenly, she felt the urge to look up at him, to try and make him understand what it was that she was feeling. Perhaps, he would commiserate if he knew what it was she'd bought with so many plans, with so much hope.

"Scarlett, what did you buy for the house from a Mr. Adolph Meinecke of Milwaukee?"

It was a long terrible moment for her, but it was to be a lie again. If she had to sit and listen to him negate her despair with reasons as to why it was just as well…she'd go mad. The intense outpouring of emotion over finding out that she'd been so wrong still frightened her.

She was protecting him from that intense emotion, knowing that he would not understand it. How could he, she thought, when she herself could hardly give credit to where it had come from?

"I've bought so much recently, I'd have to look on the bill of sale to say for certain."

"You seemed to know a moment ago. It was for the house, isn't that what you just said?" His expression changed, hardening before her eyes.

It had been good, too good to last given their past history together. Given all the times they'd hurt each other, their little over a month of happiness together should have been impossible, inconceivable in imagination let along in the light of day or the heated confines of their moonlit marital bed.

Over the last month, he'd looked at her with eyes that outshone all the lamps in the world. He was finally allowing her to see past his mask of cool disinterest, past all of his carefully contrived defenses. He let her in at last and now, she could see that doors were closing, doors that she would not be able to reopen again.

Fear ripped through her, cresting high, threatening to swell over her. All the joy, all of the love they had shared over the last month, she was entitled to none of it. She was hiding so much from him, Rosemary and Jason, her blatant intentions to disregard his wishes when it came to another baby, last but most definitely not least, the firm conviction that she would never live in the house known to her previously through her nightmares despite what she had promised him about giving the house a chance.

She attempted to build a new life with him with lies as a foundation. Now that foundation was cracking under the weight of all the lies she'd piled on top.

They had been happy for such a short time, a short span of happiness and now the universe was about to present the bill.

Still there was hope, a sliver of hope. She clung to that hope. He loved her, just as she loved him. She knew he did. Maybe that love would be enough to see them through this.

"You bought something for the house? Isn't that what you just said?"

"Yes."

Confess Scarlett, she told herself. It was time, she opened her mouth, ready to explain, but it was too late.

"That's a strange coincidence. I myself once purchased something from an Adolph Meinecke of Milwaukee. Surely, I must be thinking of a different man, for the man I am thinking of was a craftsman who made the most exquisite baby carriages. Baby carriages of exceptional quality, I believe you are previously acquainted with his work."

"Oh," she whispered around the lump in her throat. It wasn't Sally who betrayed her confidence. Rhett knew the second he saw Mr. Meinecke's name what it was she'd ordered.

He shook his head, disgust heavy in his voice. "He made Bonnie's carriage."

"Oh."

"Oh? That's all you have to say, oh?"

"I don't know what to say."

"That didn't seem to be a problem for you a moment ago when you were lying through your teeth. You seemed to be perfectly capable of answering my questions with one lie after another. Why lie to me Scarlett? Why not just tell me that you bought a baby carriage instead of concealing it."

Her shoulders slumped. "I don't know. I just didn't want to discuss it with you. Not until I was certain that we'd need it." Her vision blurred, tears in her eyes. "I saw it in a magazine, and I just wanted it. It was so special, that I knew it was meant for our child."

"You ordered the carriage at the end of February, didn't you?" Some of the ice had melted; his words were soft now, coaxing her to confide in him. "We hadn't spoken about wanting to try for another baby."

"I know."

He paused, looking as if he were waging a private, interior war with himself. "I don't understand the intrinsic need to lie to me that you seem to posses. Why couldn't you tell me that you ordered a baby carriage?"

"It wasn't meant to be a secret, not at first. I decided to have it delivered to Sally's so that when I found out I was going to have a baby, I could surprise you."

"Sally knows about you wanting another child?"

"Yes." Her expression became pained. "You surprised me by not wanting another baby. It never occurred to me that you wouldn't want what I was ready to give you."

"My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite," he quoted softly.

"What," she asked, bewildered at his sudden change of mood.

"I feel as if I am missing some huge piece of the puzzle Scarlett."

"About the carriage?"

He spread his hands wide, palms up, a little helpless in the face of a situation that didn't make sense. "I can understand why you ordered a baby carriage before we spoke about having another child. Knowing Mr. Meinecke's work as I do, it doesn't surprise me that you were taken with a sketch of his work."

"Its so beautiful. I looked at it to make sure it arrived in one piece." She pale expression warmed slightly, a pink flush suffusing her cheeks.

"I'm sure it is. Its unfortunate that it will remain unused for the time being."

That small, unintentional jab stabbed her in the heart, giving her courage. "I didn't think that it would remain unused."

"I am sorry that you ordered it. I wish that we'd spoken about having a baby sooner, then you wouldn't have ordered it."

"I still would have. As I said, I thought that we would need it."

"I made my feelings clear on the matter, did you have some lingering doubt after what I told you? If you did--."

"You were as clear as crystal." Her cheeks were flushed now, her voice trembling slightly. "It didn't matter, it couldn't, not really because until last night, I thought that I was… that is to say--"

He quickly came to kneel before her, his previous anger completely swallowed by fear. "Scarlett, what is it?"

She shook her head. "I thought I was going to have a baby, until yesterday morning when I...I knew that I wasn't going to after all. That's why I was so upset when you came home last night."

"You thought you were going to have a baby and you didn't tell me?" He couldn't help but deviate from his normally impenetrable appearance. Surprise and disappointment were written on his face. "

"I wanted to wait until I knew for certain. I was going to tell you when I knew for certain."

"Why did you think that you were," he grimaced slightly, but she did not notice, "pregnant?"

"I've had three children, all the signs were there," she shivered, biting back a small sob, "and I just wanted so badly for it to be true."

"You're sure that you aren't, could you be wrong?"

"I know that I'm not." She gagged a little; sick at heart, "I'm not going to have a baby."

He touched her arm, but she shook him off. His expression became guarded as he sat back down on the sofa he'd recently risen from. "You're disappointed?"

She raised her head; her eyes glittered in her still, white face, the earlier flush of color washed away by grief. "Yes, so much so that it hurts."

He nodded, hating the pain in her voice. "I know that you think a baby would make everything perfect between us but I was in earnest when I told you that I wanted us to wait."

Her jaw clenched, she looked away, toward the big French doors, out into the night. "I don't what to talk about this, please; just let it go."

This was madness, her all consuming, blinding need for a baby, a baby that he did not want, a baby she did not need. She had Wade and Ella, two wonderful children who should be the focus of her new found urge to parent. She possessed his undivided heart and respect, she only had to ask him and he would fetch her the moon or more to the point, the outstanding shares of Tara.

The irony was not lost on Rhett, in a strange turn of events, Scarlett was at last living the life that she'd painted for him while wallowing in a drunken fit of remorse that afternoon in Pittypat's parlor after Frank's funeral.

One of Rhett's large hands balled loosely into a fist. How satisfying it would be to punch a hole in the nearest wall, he thought distractedly. A small comfort, at least now that he knew for certain she had not conceived he could move forward with that weight removed from his shoulders.

There would be no further lapses. All precautions would be taken for as long as he deemed necessary. The burden he'd been shouldering over the last few weeks was gone now. Certainly, it was not one he looked forward to toting again any time soon. She would have to be made to understand that his position on this particular subject was firm.

"Scarlett, I can't just let it go."

"Well, you need to, otherwise you will be down here speaking to yourself." She rose with a grace that belied her reliance on a cane.

He caught her by the shoulders, the cane clattering out of her hand. She gasped softly, her eyes widening. "You aren't going anywhere." He gripped her forearms tightly, not caring if he hurt her. Maybe if he scared her enough, he could break through the wall of disillusionment she'd built. "I need you to hear me, really hear me. You thought that, given time, once I'd reconciled myself to the idea, I'd be glad."

Her small hands braced themselves against his chest, pushing frantically but she was without enough leverage to push him away. "Yes, so what. I thought that once I was pregnant it would be too late to change things and that in time; you'd come to see I was right. That having a baby was right." She began to struggle against his iron hold on her, "Let me go damn you, I just want you to be happy."

"Nothing that can come between me and the full prospect of my hopes." His voice was soft, so soft she could scarcely hear him and what she could hear, she did not understand. "In another life you could have been a Shakespearean muse. You trade in the tragic, my love."

"What does that mean," she demanded.

"It doesn't matter." He released her and gently, pushed her back into her chair. "You are a liar, Scarlett. I almost don't mind you lying to me, but never lie to yourself, it sets a dangerous precedent."

"I didn't lie to myself, you're the liar, you're the one who…"

"You knew I was against us having a baby, you agreed with me…"

She struggled to her feet. "No I didn't agree, I told you what I thought you wanted to hear. Quite honestly, I thought I might be pregnant even before we came to our agreement."

He sucked in a breath, temporarily thrown off guard. "How long have you suspected that you were pregnant?"

Delicately, she shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know, the last two weeks my suspicions were growing. I thought I'd give myself a little more time, then go to see Doctor Cross when he returned."

"You've believed that you were pregnant, since when?"

"I don't know the exact date. I was always tired and I felt sick to my stomach. I assumed that it was most likely just from the accident, but I wanted to believe that maybe when we came together on the beach or even that first time we were together at your mother's house, we…." She flinched, "Why does this matter, I'm not pregnant, you got what you wanted, I don't understand why you're so angry."

"No?"

His face was dark with anger and in his eyes; she saw a flicker of something she could not name but it frightened her just the same. "You really don't understand, do you? I 'm angry because you made a deal with me that you were optimistically certain you wouldn't have to keep. I'm angry because for all the progress I think we've made, I find us again and again back at square one. I'm angry because you can't look past your latest obsession to see the storm on the horizon. And I'm scared as hell that if this all goes wrong, I'll be the one left behind to explain to your son and daughter why they don't have a mother any more."

"I would expect you to do well at that. You've certainly had enough practice explaining to them about being left behind

"This isn't a game, God damn you." He grabbed her, this time jarring her so hard that her teeth snapped together, painfully catching the tip of her tongue, drawing blood. She could taste the metallic tang of blood. He shook her again, drawing from her an involuntary cry of pain.

Swallowing, she raised her hand to slap him, but he knew her too well. His grip was unbreakable as he pulled her hand down toward her side. "Let me go," she hissed.

"No. Not until you see reason. Do you understand any of what I just said? Any of it at all?"

Writhing in his grip, she fought like a cornered animal, "Stop screaming at me," Scarlett shrieked.

"Screaming at you is the only way I might get this through that thick skull of yours."

"I hate you," she cried. His face became hard, a single muscle ticking spasmodically in his jaw.

"You almost died," he told her, "they told me you most likely would, did you know that? Doctor Meade and the other doctor he called came to my room and told me there was nothing they could do. Doctor Meade looked me in the eye and told me that I needed to prepare myself to let you go."

"But I didn't die, if I could survive being that ill, I…"

"You don't quit do you, even when you are so wrong that it would be funny if it wasn't so fucking frightening."

She gasped at the obscenity, rendered utterly speechless at the utterance of so foul a word; one she'd only heard from him once before, the night Atlanta fell.

"I've shocked you, have I? Maybe that's what you need, to be so completely taken aback that you actually give yourself a moment to reconsider this insanity."

She found her tongue, managing to sputter, "It's not insanity."

"It is. Why can't you see that?" He almost sounded as if he was about to plead with her.

Scarlett's heart gave a guilty flutter. He was trying to protect her, but he was going about it in completely the wrong manner, but his intentions were noble.

"I did survive something terrible," she began, her voice softly cajoling, "and at the time, I never would have considered another child, not after knowing how much it hurt to lose a baby. Do you remember how things were, after I recovered, you treated me as a stranger. It's little wonder I spent the last few years wondering if you even cared, you never gave me the slightest indication that you did."

"You're right, I wish to God that I'd done things differently, but I didn't."

"So fix things now, give us this chance, give me a child."

His eyes glittered dangerously. "That night when you threw yourself at me, did you suspect even then you might already be pregnant? You put me through the torments of the damned because I couldn't control myself—"

"I wanted one more chance."

"You ordered the carriage less than two weeks after we reconciled, yet you never mentioned wanting a child. Why this constant desperation, its so completely unlike you." His expression changed, becoming slightly cruel. "Tell me the truth, initially were you planning on bearing my child for love or as an insurance policy?"

"What?"

"You knew that I was initially reluctant to reconcile, were you planning on have a baby to force my hand, in case--"

"You bastard!" Her hand swung out before she could stop herself. The sharp crack of her hand against his jaw satisfied a savage need to revenge herself on him.

"Don't hold back Scarlett only take care, you might say things that you'll never be able to take back

"You owe me a baby." her green eyes widened at the realization of what she'd just said, "Rhett, I…"

"Case in point."

"Rhett, I didn't—"

"Didn't mean what you just said," he suggested blandly. " I suspect that you did mean it, you believe that I owe you a child. You believe it wholeheartedly. If you gave it further consideration, you might decide I in fact owe you two children, but you'll have the devil's own time collecting."

"Why can't you at least try and I understand, I want a baby."

"For the same reasons you can't understand why all I want is my wife, why I want my children to have their mother. We are both selfish," He gave her an appraising look before laughing harshly.

"What's so funny?"

"Not funny so much as ironic. Not so long ago I was thinking about how much I despise Ashley Wilkes but I found that I also pity him. If he had known how everything would end, I do believe he would have refused any part of Miss Melly's plans for another child."

"They both wanted a baby, he couldn't know how things would end."

"But I do. He should have. Any man who gave a damn about his wife would refuse under such dire circumstances."

"I wish you wouldn't drag Ashley into our mess, our situation is completely different from how things were with Melly."

"I'll grant him the benefit of the doubt, perhaps he didn't know she would die whereas I know you could." His voice softened for an instant but his words were harsh. "You are rushing headlong towards tragedy and you're too damned obsessed to see it." He raked a hand through his already mussed hair. "If you recall, that particular brand of obsession almost ended our marriage."

The tears were streaming down her face. Sweeping her sleeve savagely across her cheeks she glared at him. "Every time I think that you and I have gone as far as we can, we continue to outdo ourselves."

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, offering it to her.

She shook her head, "I have one of my own." Drawing it from her pocket, she shook it a little. A small, silver disk fell on the table with a muted clink. Leaning forward for it, she nearly had it, but Rhett beat her to it.

Holding it up to the light, he tilted it, reading the name aloud. "Saint Gerard?"

"So?" Her lips pursed slightly. Holding out her hand, she curled and uncurled her fingers, "May I have it back?"

"I'm not familiar with him, what is he the patron saint of?"

Lifting her chin, she felt the anger blazing from him. There was nothing specific to put her finger on; his face was blank, his tone carefully bland once more, but she could feel the rage radiating from him like the heat of a bonfire. To hell with him and his anger, she thought rebelliously. "Can't you guess, surely you can? After all, I'm currently praying to him, what do you think he's affiliated with?"

"Commerce," he replied dryly.

"No."

He tossed the medallion on the table. "Going to the Catholic Church and praying for divine intervention, I fear, is a waste of your time." He shrugged dismissively. "The last time God personally facilitated such a pointless tragedy, an ark was required."

"How dare you!"

"No madame, how dare you?" Turning away, he walked toward the doorway.

"Where are you going?"

"Frankly, anywhere that you aren't."

He left her without another word.

* * *

A/N

Thursday, August 31, 2006 after midnight or  
Long Long ago in an IM chat box far far away...

**Dani: How many more do you need?  
Corn: i'd need 40 more reviews for an even 500 reviews  
Dani: no problem you'll get them  
Corn: how many chapters will i have to write to get them is the question  
Corn: i don't want to do more than 100 chapters, tops.  
Dani: lol liar  
Dani: I'm trying to break 2000 for one of my harry potter stories  
Corn: so I've been working on a new story  
Dani: hells yeah  
Corn: wait...as in 2000 reviews?  
Dani: yeah  
Corn: you have 2000 reviews  
Corn: that is crazy  
Dani: let me look  
Corn: i want 2000 reviews  
Corn: god damn it  
Corn: there is no way i am writing that much how many chapters is that?  
Dani: I'm at 29 chapter  
Corn: i'd need like ohh i guess 1,540 more reviews give or take  
Dani: Not impossible  
Corn: Yeah I'd have to write only about 110 more chapters. I'll get right on that.**

Thanks to everyone who left those 1,540 plus reviews :D


	138. A battle fought

**A/N**

**I untied Dani so she could review, shows what you know Alica!**

**P.S my other "baby" starts kindergarten in two weeks! Freaking out a little bit, I remember announcing her birth while posting The Lady and now here it is, the first day of kindergarten. Time flies when you aren't paying attention. I am crushed that she is going to be gone all day, she keeps pointing to the school and telling me she is going to and I quote "rock kindergarten." **

**Clearly she is as upset as I am.**

**Right?**

Waking up with only her thoughts for company, Scarlett stared blindly up at the ceiling. Once more, despite her best efforts to the contrary, she was alone in her bed at Miss Eleanor's house.

Alone again. She always ended up alone.

This time with Rhett had felt so different. This time she'd felt as if there were a chance that she would finally love and be loved in exchange. Loved by someone who knew who she truly was, who took her as she was and wasn't frightened or disgusted by the inner most workings of her secret self.

What a cool liar Rhett Butler was, she thought, shoving his pillow to the floor in a childish fight of ire. Today was the Christening of her distant relation's baby, a relation who happened to be married to one of Rhett's employees at the mines. Rhett promised her they would all go as a family, but the chances of finding him downstairs; present, dressed and ready to leave seemed unlikely at this juncture.

She needed a drink. The familiar warmth of a brandy or two would help thaw the ball of ice that sat heavy in her belly.

Brandy, her old comforter and confessor in times of difficulty, suddenly she missed it, missed it badly.

_"Don't drink alone Scarlett, people always find out." _

What good advice, a pity neither of them adhered to it. A small smile formed on her lips. He'd sounded so pompous that day, so morally superior. So very Doctor Meade. He possessed a distinct gift for mimicry, choosing to employ it often at the most inopportune times such as during church services or other occasions of rigid solemnity.

A faint smile appeared. It had been ages since she'd drunk alone. Ages since she'd felt the physical craving for a drink that had relentlessly pursued her for so long. Alcohol for so long served as her sanctuary, her buffer against the harsh realities of the world.

Recently, she'd asked herself how it all started. Tracing back through years filled with tears, losses and pain; she found her answer. It was that first swallow of sour mash the night she returned to Tara to find her world torn apart. That night, despite the loss of her mother, in spite of the knowledge that he father had lost his mind; she'd slept soundly. From then on out, the sips she'd take to help her sleep grew into a need, an unstoppable addiction to the comfort that could be found at the bottom of a bottle.

Now, a glass of wine or two with dinner, a small sherry with Mrs. Eleanor while they played cards in the evening, a few glasses of punch at a ball; those were her limits these days. Not since January when she'd returned from New Year's Eve at the Landing unkissed and unsure of her future had she so badly needed the comfortable oblivion of alcohol.

For so long she'd been doing just fine without the copious amounts of alcohol that lulled her to sleep each night. One drink, maybe two couldn't possibly hurt. It would help her face the day. It would help her face Wade and Ella when she explained that their stepfather had run off again.

Pulling the covers back, she heaved herself out of bed. Slowly, leaning on the mattress for support when her head swam a little, she made her way to the hatbox that contained the last bottle of brandy she'd brought with her from Atlanta.

The first sip burned, blazing a fiery trail across her lips and tongue, harshly catching the back of her throat, making her gag a little. A second sip was just as bad. Her belly rumbled, protesting the imbibing of such strong liquor on an empty stomach. Taking another sip, she found herself unable to swallow. The taste of liquor heavily sitting on her tongue made her choke. Reaching up, she managed to pull herself up just in time to retch in the basin.

For several minutes, she clutched the dresser, breathing in shallow pants between bouts of vomiting. Thank goodness she hadn't eaten yet, at least there was that comfort.

The pungent scent of the contents of the basin reached her nose. Shaking a little, she poured some water into the basin to diffuse the order.

She felt wretched, pathetic, and utterly miserable. The previous comfort she'd always derived from drinking was gone. Her eyes watered as her stomach clenched spasmodically but she forced herself to keep taking shallow breaths till the nausea passed.

She was weak!

Weak.

The word echoed in her head, taunting her, breaking her, infuriating her.

Humbling her.

That's what she was…she was weak.

Weak.

Weak for needing him.

Weak for loving him so much.

Weak for wanting him to hurry home.

Glaring at the full-length mirror, she stared at her reflection, challenging her resolve.

"Take a drink," she whispered to her reflection, "you need one, don't you? You don't know how to deal with anything anymore without one."

Tears burned the corners of her eyes. Surprised at the searing heat, she lifted her hand to capture one on her fingertip.

"I don't need one," she proclaimed, hating the quaver of uncertainty in her voice.

That inner voice, the one that only told the complete and unvarnished truth countered her. You don't have a baby; you don't even know if you still have a husband. You have nowhere to go except a house you hate in a town that hates you.

You have nothing.

Nothing but a bottle of brandy.

Her gaze fell on the bottle. It would take a few more swallows but eventually she would be able to keep it down and then…

"NO!" Her cry was guttural; pained but determined.

She hadn't let the Yankees lick her, she hadn't let losing everyone she loved and needed lick her, she would be damned if she'd let a bottle of fermented fruit break her.

Hand shaking, as if stricken with palsy, she returned the brandy to its hiding place.

Swallowing against the lump in her throat, she firmly replaced the hatbox lid. Her demons were neatly packed away in a box for the time being.

Rhett knew how much she'd drank over the years. It used to give him perverse pleasure to occasionally remark on it. Now she wondered if he condoned her excessive drinking to keep from having to deal with her. He encouraged her to drink. At least, she felt as if he did. Hadn't he told her that he didn't care if she liked her brandy? He pointed out that he knew just how much she drank. Why hadn't he tried to stop her? Could he have?

She found that she was coming to second-guess every word, every gesture, every kindness he'd ever shown her.

Damn him, she thought, damn him to hell. Who knew if she'd ever have a chance to ask him? With no word in nearly four days, it seemed he was going to leave her to attend the christening without him.

How could he leave her again? But, despite his promises to the contrary, he was gone. He was gone, his whereabouts unknown since their fight Wednesday night. Recollecting some of the things they'd both said left her alternately hot and cold. Telling him that he owed her a baby…that was something so awful that she could scarcely believe it had been said.

Shaking a little, she managed, without the aid of her cane, to make it to her chair by the fireplace. Hating the physical weakness that still plagued her as much as she hated its spiritual counterpart, she gritted her teeth a little against a small dart of pain.

Everyday, since he'd left, she'd walked in her bedroom without the cane. Forcing herself, pushing past the pains and tremors that wracked her body, she could just see the light at the end of the tunnel. Her body would recuperate and then…

And then if she'd lost Rhett, it wouldn't matter. Nothing would.

His note was concealed at the back of her bible, a prop bought to aid in her presentation of piety. How long since she'd gone to church? Here was another Sunday passing without her attending mass. It was becoming habit, she thought. She hadn't been, not once, since the accident.

Looking outside at the mottled, dirty gray sky, she sighed. One more week off, that was all she needed. Next week, she promised herself, next week she'd return to church, reinstate her campaign to buy back Careen's share.

Next week seemed a lifetime away. By then, she might have actually slept more than a few hours at a time.

Unfolding his note for the hundredth time, she blinked against the sting of tears. Tears that she did not allow to fall.

_I can't see you yet. It would be best if we spent time apart. _

_Rhett_

Two sentences. That was all he had to say? Two measly, uninformative sentences was all he felt she was due? How long was time? Time could be a few days, a week, several months.

Years.

Time could be years. Would she receive a letter in a few months ordering her to leave his mother's house? Would he write to her to give her his direction?

How long was time?

How could she bear several months of uncertain existence, dwelling in limbo, waiting for him to return?

Maybe…maybe he would never come back. Maybe time away would turn his heart against her..

_I can't see you yet._

_Yet._

She clung to the implied promise that she would see him again.

_Yet._

When his temper cooled, he would come back.

She tried to ignore the treacherous voice that whispered, _when exactly is yet?_


	139. Battle wounds

.

**REPOSTED FOR EVERYONE WHO ASKED....stupid ff net ate the original. **

She was downstairs, looking for Penny, when she heard the front gate swing shut. Pulling back the front curtain, she watched him come up the front walk.

It would appear, against all odds and experiences to the contrary, yet, was in fact, today.

Vicious disillusionment combined with disappointment. A brief expression of agony rippled across her face. She wasn't ready to face him. What a different homecoming from when he'd returned from Atlanta. That night, she could hardly wait to fling herself into his waiting arms.

Now, she was more inclined to fling something at his head.

Deciding against revealing herself to him just yet, she sighed softly. She wasn't hiding, she told herself firmly, only withdrawing until she could regroup and bulwark her defenses against the next emotional onslaught.

Swiftly turning, she took a step toward the door but before she could move forward, the front door opened and closed. Briefly, her jaw clenched. She was temporarily trapped in the front room.

Knowing his routines far better than she'd ever known him, she knew where he would go after having been absent for several days. It would either be his study or possibly upstairs to see if the children were home. They would be glad to see him, but right now, she just resented his penchant for disappearing and reappearing at will.

Noticing the curtain was slightly askew, she reached out mechanically to straighten it, the curtain rings jingling unexpectedly as she straightened the drapes.

Hearing his footsteps pause outside the door, she froze. Holding her breath, she waited for him continue down the hall.

"I know you're in there Scarlett."

Body tensing at the mockery in his voice, Scarlett turned away from the window to face him, her back straight, small shoulders squared. The painful memory of their last encounter was still deeply entrenched in her heart and mind.

There was violence in her eyes; anger was also present and something more that he could not read.

"Madame." He bowed deeply, mocking her slightly with the formalness of his greeting.

Giving him an impudent look, she inclined her head slightly. "Have you turned mind reader? I was just about to ask where or rather, with whom you'd been." Her expression was mild, a complete contradiction to the venom in her voice. "But you went and answered before I had the chance to ask."

He chuckled lightly in spite of the tension between them. She was a woman like no other. From their first meeting, he'd deduced she possessed more brass than brains. Only after longer association did he come to see Scarlett was actually quite intelligent, but persistently lazy when it came to learning something that didn't translate to ways in which she could further her pursuit of material possessions and wealth.

"Subtle." Taking a moment to draw off his gloves and overcoat, he smiled at her before tossing them onto the nearest chair. "If you want to know where I was, you need only ask sweetheart."

"Excuse me?"

"No I will not, not this time," he replied, deliberately misconstruing the meaning of her previous statement

"What!"

"You heard me, my pet." His brow rose slightly. "I do believe one of our problem lately lies in my tendency to make excuses for you." He grinned brashly. "I've always suspected you'd benefit immensely from what my late, unlamented father would have called home correction."

The implication did not go unnoticed. Color flared in her cheeks while her lips drew back into a sneer. "So you've said, don't you remember when you told me I'd benefit with a beating?"

"With a buggy whip, I believe it was?" He shrugged, "You have a predisposition to masochism, this past week only served to drive that point home. Perhaps you would have enjoyed it."

"I don't care where you were," she cried, not understanding exactly what it was he'd just said, "and the way you're acting now, I don't know if I care that you've come back." She moved toward the door, pointedly making her way around him.

He laughed. "You little liar, you've been wondering where I went since I walked out the other night. Hell, I'd be willing to bet its driven you mad not knowing but I'm willing to take pity on you. Just ask me. That is, if you ask me nicely." His red lips twisted into a faint smile. "When you want to, you can be quite charming while propositioning me."

"You are such an arrogant bastard," she spat out; lifting her chin, "why don't you just go to hell."

His old familiar mask slid into place. "How do you know I haven't already been?"

"Well then, what else can I say except welcome back? Although, I have to say, you look remarkably healthy for a man just returned from damnation." She brushed a speck of lint from her gown. "I would love to continue this, but I have to get ready for the christening."

His eyes caressed her form. "I think what you're wearing is charming."

"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped, "it's a tea gown, I couldn't wear it ou---." She stopped, realizing he'd been baiting her. "Why don't you let your mother know her wayward son has returned? Your running off worried her." Shrugging her shoulders, she smirked slightly, her green eyes burning with a cool emerald flame. "But then again, what's a little collateral damage in your eternal quest to wound me?"

He caught her by the arm, abruptly yanking her toward him. She stumbled, thrown off balance, her cane skidding across the floor, well out of her reach. She began to stumble but before she could fall, his free arm wrapped itself around her waist.

Scarlett stared up at him, paralyzed. The shock and terror she felt mixing with violent waves of fury. "Turn me loose or I'll scream."

"Will you now," he inquired, unconcerned by the implied threat.

"Do you want your mother to find us like this, find you manhandling me?" He released her upper arm and she smiled triumphantly. "I thought not."

Then, Scarlett made the mistake of looking him in the eye. His dark eyes were cold, without a trace of warmth or emotion. He was looking at her with his cat at the mouse hole expression. Whatever he was about to do, his expression said, he didn't care what she thought about it.

Seeing the way her eyes widened as they swept over his face, his lip curled slightly in a faint, recognizable smile. Scarlett felt a thrill of apprehension course through her body just before hands dug into the soft flesh of her lower back.

Still, she couldn't just give in. She had to tell him, in no uncertain terms, that she would no longer- a brief murmur of protest escaped her lips only to be cut off when his mouth captured hers in a brutal kiss.

His commanding arms wrapped themselves tightly around her waist, molding her still struggling form against his unyielding, muscular body. Oblivious to what she was doing, Scarlett's arms wrapped around his neck. Under the punishing onslaught of his insistent mouth, she broke.

Unable to suppress a soft moan desire, she opened to him, allowing him to continue his exploration of her soft mouth. He felt it happen, her unconditional surrender and reveling in it, he fitted her body tightly against his hard, powerful frame.

Lowering his hands, he cupped her buttocks and, with an urgency that frightened him, he lifted her completely off her feet. She cried out against his lips, surprised. Moving swiftly, but with underlying care, he pressed her up against the nearest wall.

She was a mass of sensations, her head was swimming, her heart raced; even her legs felt weak. How could his touch do this to her? No matter how angry she thought she was, no matter how determined to remain aloof, it all disappeared. Gone in the face of what existed now, what, in retrospect, had always existed between them.

Her knees nearly buckling, she caught the lapels of his jacket. Trying to reason with him, she looked up, meeting his intent gaze without flinching. "Rhett, we can't, not here, anyone…"

He kissed her again, ignoring her rapidly diminishing protests.

Pinioning her against the wall with his body, he allowed her to slide down his muscular form until her weight rested on his elevated thigh.

Reaching between them, he unbuttoned the top buttons of her tea gown. Squirming against him, she tried to deter him, clutching ineffectively at his nimble fingers.

Beneath her tea gown, she wore only a combination and a chemise, intending to wait until later to dress for the Christening. If Rhett so chose, he would be able to strip her bare in no time.

Shame and excitement brought a hectic flush of color back into her cheeks. Picturing him taking her against the wall that her back was literally against or even on the desk like a common whore left her alternately hot and cold.

How could she have these thoughts and be the daughter of Ellen O'Hara at the same time? It wasn't a new thought, but it brought her back from the summit of excitement Rhett had temporarily lifted her to.

"Rhett…" she said, attempting once again to appeal to his sensibilities, "We can't do this, I won't. Not here."

He idly traced the side of her neck with his fingertips; trailing lower until he was caressing the now exposed skin just above her rapidly lowering neckline. "You want this, don't you?"

She swallowed harshly; her heart pounding in her ears. She was sure that he could hear the sound. "What if someone should find us?"

Smiling a little, he leaned toward the door, and with a self-assured flick of his wrist, turned the lock. "I'll ask you again," he lowered his mouth to her ear, "do you want this?" Not giving her a chance to answer, he raised the stakes slightly. Catching the tender flesh of her earlobe between his teeth, he nibbled lightly.

"Where have you been," she asked softly, trying to ignore the sensations he was causing with his teasing nips and kisses.

"It doesn't matter."

"It does to me," she countered, trying to steel her body against the feelings of pleasure that came from his hand cupping the soft flesh of her breast.

"It matters more than this?" He asked softly before taking her lips in another kiss. He was insistent, demanding she open his mouth to him, but this time there was gentleness too. He was trying to wear her down, without harming or frightening her. Feeling her mouth open, he drew back, laughing softly. "What could be more important than this?"

The triumph in his voice cut her to the quick. He was kissing her this way to prove a point. He was using her own body and its desires against her, proving that he could do whatever he liked so long as he kissed her senseless when he finally came back.

Before he could kiss her again, she turned her head. "You walked out on me, I can't just forget that."

She felt his hands tighten on her hips. "You lied to me, incessantly, would you rather I not forget that?"

"You won't forget though," she whispered softly, "you never forget anything." Her eyes had faint, dark circles beneath them, a physical testament to the restless nights and tension filled days she'd spent since his abrupt departure from the Landing.

He nodded, not denying the validity of her simple statement. "You're right, I don't."

"Then how can we live like this?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know," her voice cracked painfully, before dropping to a whisper. "How can you not know?"

"Because, I honestly don't know. There's so much broken between us, maybe we were both being naïve to think we could fix it all overnight."

Her eyes narrowed hostility. Pushing against his chest, she felt his heart pounding beneath her palm. "Turn me loose."

When he didn't release her, she shoved futilely against his unyielding chest. "Scarlett," he cautioned softly.

"Don't you Scarlett me, like you're scolding a naughty child. I am not a child," she pushed harder, "I am not some witless doll that you can play with until you tire of me. You can't keep running away from me."

"Yet you can continue lying to me."

"At least I stay and do it to your face, that's more than can be said for you," she taunted.

"Be careful Scarlett, before you go too far."

"Where exactly is too far? Calling you a coward, is that too far? Telling you that I was hurt but not surprised that you turned tail and ran away, is that too far? Won't you help me; heaven knows I can't be trusted with an opinion of my own. So you tell me, how far is too far?" Her red lips curled into a sultry, satisfied smile. Pressing her finger lightly against his lips, she allowed the smile to fully bloom. "No, don't say a word, not even a clue. I'll know when I reach too far, it's easy to tell, you'll just disappear, as you always do."

She chuckled softly, "You're still here, I mustn't have reached too far yet."

"Are you quite done," he asked coolly, without so much as a hint to what he was thinking.

"I don't know, am I?" Scarlett challenged.

Taking her by the waist, he carefully lowered her into the closest chair. Picking up her cane, he hooked it on the arm of her chair. "You still haven't asked where I was."

"I haven't asked because I don't care."

"Ah, yes, so you said," he replied. "I admire your fortitude, most women would be desperate for details, it's a rare woman that can turn away from unpleasant truth." He smiled sardonically, "I salute you."

"Why thank you Rhett," she replied sweetly, "may I ask, where will you be sleeping tonight?"

"Where would you like me to sleep?"

"Why, in the yard of course. It's where dogs belong," she smiled innocently into his dark face, "well, not Toby of course, after all, he's very well behaved."

He leaned over her, only the tight grip of his hands, curled around the arms of her chair, betrayed the extent of his displeasure. "Is that what you would have me be, a lapdog who rolls over and begs favor from his mistress?"

"Why shouldn't I want you for a lapdog, if you were more like Toby, I could tell you to sit and stay."

"Not even for you will I roll over and play dead at your command." He smirked. "Strange how fond of dog analogies you are, but then again, perhaps not. After all, you came trotting after me like a bitch in heat wh- -"

Her hand flashed out, striking him hard across the mouth, and to her horror, she saw a tiny bead of blood appear where her ring cut his lip. "Oh, Rhett I-"

Seeing the murderous look in his eyes, she tried to grab the head of her cane, intent on escaping the swiftly closing confines of the room but he got there first. Sweeping out his hand, he knocked her cane off the arm of the chair. With a sidelong kick, he sent it skidding across the parquet floor.

Trying to defuse the situation, she looked up into his fathomless black eyes, "Rhett, I didn't mean…"

"The hell you didn't."

She tried to bring herself to her feet, but his large hands firmly cupped her shoulders, keeping her seated. "My dear, you are what I believe is called a captive audience."

Looking up at him, a mutinous gleam in her bright eyes, she opened her mouth, fully intending to scream the house down but he knew her too well. Sliding his hands from her shoulders, he caught her by the forearms and jerked her to her feet.

"You goddamned bitch," he murmured, the mild profanity sounding strangely like an endearment. From the first moment he'd heard her swear seconds before that vase flew over his head, he'd known. She would be his undoing, driving him to reckless deeds and impulsive acts. He'd wanted her that first afternoon, badly. Nearly enough to take what he wanted and worry about the consequences after the fact.

"What are you thinking," she whispered, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

"You wouldn't want to know," he answered immediately.

"Yes I do, please, tell me."

"If you really must know, I was thinking about how beautiful you are..." she smiled automatically at the world beautiful, "and how I felt the first time I heard you speak."

"Why wouldn't I want to know that," she asked softly.

"Because I'm also thinking about how I wanted to make love to you on the floor of the Wilkes library, except what I wanted to do wouldn't have been considered love making. I wanted you, I considered having you." He could hear the hoarse quality of his voice. He nearly stopped, but the temptation to both shock her and unburden himself was too great. Tilting her head back until their eyes met, he watched her squirm under the scrutiny of his gaze. "Did you know that, that I wanted to tear off your decidedly inappropriate afternoon dress and then bury myse —"

He heard her slight gasp and tried at the very last second to draw back. "But, I knew that you would have screamed and brought everyone within earshot. Isn't that so, my pet?" He released his hold on her chin, his fingers brushing the curve of her neck before sliding down to her shoulder. "I asked you a question Scarlett, if I'd acted on my baser urges that afternoon, you would have slapped me and screamed for help, wouldn't you?"

Scarlett swallowed convulsively. She needed to answer, had to break the silence that was rapidly becoming unbearable. Then, his hand slid lower, coming down her forearm until finally it circled her wrist. In a dream, unable to resist or cooperate, she watched him bring her hand to his lips. Bending his head, he pressed a kiss against the soft flesh of her palm, before raising his eyes back to meet hers. " I've wanted you from the first moment I laid eyes on you, do you believe that?"

She shivered, not with cold or fear but with anticipation.

"Scarlett—"

"Yes," she answered breathlessly. "Yes, I believe that."

"I've wanted you since that first moment, I've never stopped wanting you, no matter how hard I've tried, do you believe that?"

"I don't know" Her voice was subdued. Yes meant she never doubted his desire for her and that was a lie. Yes meant she'd never doubt his desire for her and she knew that in the future, there would surely be another time in which she'd doubt him. Yes meant her and Rhett, together, always. She was no longer sure if she believed in always.

Except, the way his hands felt, the way his voice sounded just now when he confessed to wanting her for so long….

She should stop this now. They were much too close to the edge, the smallest thing would push them both over.

And the, then she did it. She did the one thing she knew she shouldn't do. Leaning forward, staring at him from under thick, black lashes, she whispered. "I don't know what I would have done then, but I know what I would do now."

It was too much.

"Scarlett..." With a groan, he leaned in, unable to help himself. Kissing her had been on his mind for the last four days, he was unable to resist any longer. He knew how foolish this was, how dangerous. They were on the main floor of his mother's home. Somewhere in the house were three children who might come looking for them any minute. His mother and sister were somewhere in the house but…

Her lips tasted like cinnamon. Sweet, so sweet but with a hint of fire, a trace of something foreign, something exotic. His mind hand came up to cup her cheek, his other hand firm against the small of her back, drawing her still closer, encouraging her to press against him. He could feel no reluctance on her part, only a need that mirrored his own.

This shouldn't be happening; it was foolish, it impetuous, it was... magnificent. It was completely different from every kiss she'd ever received. His lips were tender, intent on pleasing her. She tried to return his passion, a mewl of frustration escaping her lips when he broke their embrace. She tried to recapture his lips but he overruled her, incessantly slanting his mouth over hers, silently asking her to give even more than she already was.

She needed to make him feel the way she was feeling right now. So, when he asked her without words to take the kiss deeper, she opened her mouth and allowed his tongue to slip past her lips.

It was only then that she remembered she shouldn't have let him kiss her this ardently. She tried to hang onto her earlier resentments, her fury at his highhanded treatment of her, the disgust she'd felt when he walked out on her after their argument. But, when he sat on the sofa, pulling her down into his lap, she gasped and leaned her body into his while bringing her arms up around his neck. With every kiss that passed between them, numerous feelings, stronger than she had even imagined, were overwhelming her, consuming her until she was struggling to keep her head.

He was making her want him again. She had fought to purge him from her heart over the last four days, steeling herself against needing him, and in the end, she'd lost.

Lost the instant he pressed his lips to hers.


	140. Love is a Battlefield yw Dani

**Sorry it took so long to post, was having a hard time just in general. **

**Life, don't you know you totally get in the way of fanfiction.**

**This chapter is for Beth who has been combing through and giving me corrections. Thank you for taking on that thankless task.**

**And as always, for Dani and that time in the Haunted Mansion. It was an elevator, who knew.**

**Well, Dani knew...**

* * *

He'd given her almost a half of an hour to calm down, thinking they both needed time to bring their emotions under control, but while he wasn't expecting a warm reception, he certainly didn't expect to find a locked door when he went upstairs to dress for the christening.

He knocked, waiting for her to come to the door. Her voice from the other side of the door was muffled, but the words unmistakable. Unless his hearing was suddenly impaired, his wife had invited him to go to hell.

Locking herself in their room, sulking like a child; not a surprise and yet, disappointing all the same. Since her accident, they'd been making progress, but admittedly, even before her accident. They'd been getting to know each other on equal footing, as adults, as partners, and more recently as both friends and lovers. But now, because of a slip of the tongue, his wife had regressed, become more petulant child than reasonable adult.

He knocked again. This time there was only silence. His jaw clenched tightly. If knocking did not bring her to the door, a reminder of their past might. "Scarlett," he shouted, hammering on their bedroom door, "if you don't open this door, I will. Remember what I once told you about a locked door keeping me from you."

He could hear her, murmuring softly, then footsteps, hesitant ones, coming toward the door.

It was Penny, not Scarlett, who opened the door. Her normally cheerful countenance was absent; instead, her expression was a study in abject misery.

"Penny, stand aside," he said, "please." The please was clearly an afterthought, added to let her know that his anger, combined with visibly mounting frustration, was not directed at her.

The girl flinched at the coldness in his deep eyes, unable to detect his subtle use of the word please as a measure of consideration. All she could see was the irritation in her mistress's husband's eyes. Never before did she have cause to fear Captain Butler, she'd told her cousin repeatedly what a good husband and father he was, but now, she wasn't so sure.

A command broke through her jumbled thoughts, startling her.

"Move out of the way Penny," he said softly, his attention focused over the slight girl's shoulder.

"I can't do that," she replied, her voice rising to a near wail. "She said I couldn't let you in."

"Penny, I said…"

A sharp clearing of the throat from the room's other inhabitant prompted Penny to continue, cutting him off. "Captain Butler, Miss Scarlett says to tell you that she's busy and to stop…" she swallowed anxiously, chewing nervously on her bottom lip, before dropping her eyes. Finding a small reserve of her rapidly dwindling courage, she continued in a rush. "She wants you to stop your banging on her door like a lunatic." She was trembling now; desperately wishing she was anywhere but between these two volatile people.

Then, from behind her, came another prompt. "Go on Penny. Tell him he doesn't need to take her to the christening, she's going with her children," said Scarlett. When the girl did not repeat the message, Scarlett sighed pointedly. "Shut the door Penny, I feel a draft."

"Sorry Captain Butler," she murmured, before closing the door.

His patience, already severely taxed, finally ran out. Thrusting his foot between the door and frame, he rested his hand firmly against the door. "Go downstairs Penny. Now. If you hear the bell, ignore it. If you hear screaming, ignore it. If you hear the outbreak of another war, you stay downstairs and mind your own business. Extend that advice to anyone who feels a moral obligation to come up and investigate. Do you understand me?"

"Penny, come here," Scarlett called, adding a irritable, "now." She was watching him in the reflection of the dressing table mirror, her green eyes blazing. "I need you to finish my hair, then you need to finish my packing."

"Penny," Rhett's voice was quiet, but firm. "Leave. Now."

Penny glanced back nervously at Scarlett. "Miss Scarlett…" she said, pleading for understanding. She couldn't challenge Captain Butler, no matter how loyal she was to Scarlett. While the house on the battery was supposed to be Miss Eleanor's house, everyone knew that Captain Butler owned the house and paid the wages of everyone working in it.

But Scarlett, in the grip of fury, was in no mood to try and understand her maid's discomfort. Her sole focus was on outmaneuvering the man she currently regarded as her enemy. "Penny, whose maid are you, his or mine? I said you should stay, so-"

Rhett gently grasped the girl by the forearm. "And I said you should go. I advise you to listen to me."

She dared a look toward Scarlett's reflection, "I'm sorry Miss Scarlett."

"I'm sure you are." Shrugging her slim shoulders, she laughed softly, anything but amused at the currently situation. "It's not your fault Penny. Apparently, I've lost the privilege of having a door."

"Miss Scarlett?"

"Never mind, go on, if you don't leave now, he's liable to take it off the hinges." Picking up her hairbrush, she waved it nonchalantly. "Go and pack for Ella. Wade can see to his own things."

The girl nodded and then, without a backward glance, fled.

Closing the door behind him, he turned the key in the lock before pocketing it.

Feigning a shiver, Scarlett chuckled softly. "Locking the door, very impressive. Really, I'm quite petrified." She held up a hand, quaking it lightly. "Look, I'm shaking."

Leaning against the door, he studied her with a half smile. "Having Penny pack for our big move, I had no idea you were so eager. When she made no reply, he continued to bait her. "If you are really in such a hurry, I'll have Maingo put my things together as well."

She began brushing her hair again; roughly dragging the brush through her tousled locks with wide, angry sweeps. Catching a snarl, she ripped the brush free, drawing a swift intake of breath.

"Would you like me to do that for you," he inquired politely.

Her retort was sharp. "Keep your goddamned hands to yourself."

"You're upset, but you took what I said the wrong way." His earlier attempts at levity were gone now; his face was serious, his expression earnest.

She turned to face him, turning so quickly that he took an involuntary step forward, fearing she would fall from the bench. Her face was taut, her slender body trembling with barely contained fury. "I took what you said the wrong way," she echoed, incredulous. "I took it wrong?" Her voice rose sharply "How the hell was I supposed to take that?"

"I shouldn't have said it."

"Why not? If its how you feel, better I know now than later."

"I wasn't trying to hurt you, I'd go so far as to admit it came out before I knew what I was saying."

"Don't you dare try and lie to me like that," she said softly but with ill concealed malice. "You are the coldest, most unfeeling bastard I've ever had the misfortune to meet. Nothing just slips out of your mouth unless you mean it to slip out."

"Scarlett, you didn't give me a chance to explain."

She shook her head slowly, the fire dimming in her eyes. Her shoulders slumped slightly, the strength seemingly draining from her before his eyes. "I wonder, has this all been a lie? Did you just want me to finally want you? What if you only wanted me to love you as much as you claimed to have once loved me? Was this all an act? Did you put this on so that you could hurt me as badly as I've hurt you?" Her gaze fell on her wedding ring. "I don't know you at all, not really. I thought I did, but then again, maybe that was just what you wanted me to think." She clapped her hands mockingly. "Well played sir, well played."

He extended his hand toward her, palm up, an act of supplication, born of a desire to salve her obvious pain. "You asked why I stopped. I only wanted you to understand what I'm feeling. Correct me if I'm wrong but I thought that was a part of our understanding." His hands fell to his sides. "Sometimes I think all the lies were better; it made it easier for us to deal with one another. That what I'm feeling hurts you, I regret that but-"

"Hurt me?" Her lips drew back in a sneer. "Are you surprised you hurt me? Are you insane or just stupid? How was I to take what you said? One minute my husband was going to make love to me, the next he tells me that since that night at the Landing, every time I touched him he wondered if I was just using him to get what I wanted."

"That's not what I said," he began, but she would not be silenced.

Her dark brows rushed together, her hands knotted in the folds of her dressing gown. "A whore, that's what you called me. You think I'm no better than a whore." Each time she said the word whore, her face twisted as if she were being dealt a series of stinging blows.

"That's ridiculous-"

"You called me a whore," she screamed, the tendons visible in her pale throat. He reached out to her, but she slapped back his hand. "Don't touch me," she panted, her voice rasping faintly.

"No, I did not. You took what I said out of context, I was trying to be honest. Trying to tell you why so that you could understand how hard it is for me to tru-"

"No, you weren't being honest, you were being hateful, which for you, seems to be one in the same." Her arm tensed, pulling back, her hand tightly gripping the handle of her hairbrush.

"If you throw that at me, I will turn you over my knee."

"You wouldn't dare," she shrieked, drawing back her arm.

"If you insist on acting like a child, I'll treat you like one," he replied with quiet conviction.

Looking him in the eye, seeing the truth in his statement, she appeared unsure as to what to do next.

"Scarlett, put it down."

Slamming the brush down on the dressing table, she turned her back to him, trying to appear as if she was concerning herself with her toilette. "You should go now. I don't want you near me."

Glancing toward her trunk, he stood quietly for nearly five minutes, unnerving her with his stillness.

"Get out," she commanded, her voice hoarse from the earlier screaming bout.

"No," he said calmly. "Penny is packing Ella's things."

"She is," she replied.

"And your things, were you preparing for our move?"

"No."

"Then you're packing for a trip? Where do you intend on going?"

"Home."

"Satisfy my curiosity, Mrs. Butler, home being where?"

"Atlanta, maybe Tara."

"With Sister Sue? That should prove to be an interesting arrangement."

"I hope she'll be gone soon enough. I'm going to do what I should have done years ago. I am going to write her a large bank draft. She's greedy and she doesn't care for Tara, not like I do. If or better yet when she accepts, well then I still have to share with the church, but at least Sue will be gone."

"Why not try that with the church as well," he suggested with a smirk.

"I tried, but you can't just bribe the Catholic Church."

Suppressing a smile at the inaccuracy of her words, he shrugged as if her destination were of supreme indifference to him. "Very well, let me be the first to wish you a pleasant trip. Oh, you will be sure and wire the children when you arrive in Atlanta? I wouldn't want them to worry."

"Why would I wire them here? They aren't staying here. My children will be coming with me."

"No Scarlett, they won't."

Her confidant demeanor faded slightly, cracks appearing in her carefully composed façade. "They are my children, they'll go where ever I say they go."

Resting his palms on her shoulders, he studied her reflection in the mirror. "You are mistaken as well as selfish." Leaning down, he spoke softly, his breath disturbing a few strands of hair next to her ear, drawing an involuntary shiver from her. "Those children have been through enough; they are staying here, with me."

"They aren't staying," she said, her gaze firmly fixed on the mirror.

"They are," he corrected gently, sliding his hands down her shoulders. Stepping back, he smiled pleasantly. "You are, of course, welcome to stay with us, if you like."

"You can't stop me from taking my children."

"Again, you are mistaken. I most certainly can stop you, and more importantly, I will stop you."

"Don't you dare try to use my children to threaten me."

"My dear, I am not threatening you. I am telling you, as plainly as I can, you are not taking them with you. If you feel the need to storm off and throw a childish tantrum, then by all means, don't let me stop you. But, I won't let you drag Ella and Wade into it."

"I'm not leaving because of a mood. I'm leaving because our marriage is over. I was wrong to ever think you and I could fix things. We obviously can't." She watched his reflection in the mirror. He didn't seem particularly concerned that she'd told him their marriage was over. "Well, surely you must have come to the same conclusion," she urged.

"Melodrama suits you Scarlett."

Her head came up, whatever she'd expected him to say, it wasn't that "What does that mean," she asked suspiciously.

"It means you make quite the pretty picture when you're angry. Don't believe me," he grinned at her livid expression, "just look in the mirror. Breasts heaving, face flushed, eyes flashing; in all, quite alluring."

"You are disgusting."

"Because I admire you? If my admiration disgusts you, I shall endeavor to conceal it from you." He rested his hand against his heart, a stage gesture that when made by him seemed almost plausible. "I fear, that will be an impossible undertaking."

"Be quiet, do you hear me, just be- qu-…"

"No need to be rude Scarlett, not when-"

"I'm warning you, if you try and take my children, I'll kill you. Do you understand me?"

He leaned down until he could look her in the eyes. "No need to make threats my dear, its cause and effect. You're a good businesswoman; I know you are familiar with cause and effect. It's very simple really; if you leave, the children stay. If you stay, then you have nothing to worry about."

"They aren't yours, if you try and take them you'll find that the law…"

"Is completely on my side. My dear, do you remember our wedding and the vows you spoke? You promised to love, honor and obey? I didn't expect you to love me right away although a little fondness would have been nice. Honor, well I've admitted to you that I don't value honor but obeying? I'll admit it; the idea of you obeying does intrigue me."

"Obey! Obey you?" Her eyes glittered, like a cobra, ready to strike. "You are just like every other man, aren't you? All these years, pretending that you weren't, even telling me you were proud to have a smart wife. Everything I wanted to hear to lure me in, but in the end, you are just like every other man. I'll obey you over my dead body."

Her hand suddenly swung out, connecting sharply with his jaw. The force of the blow, combined with its unforeseen nature, unbalanced him, sending him sprawling. Heedless of the precarious situation she'd flung herself headlong in to, she screamed, "To hell with you, to hell with those vows, I hate you."

He was upon her before she could move, back on his feet, rage animating his face. She tried to defend herself, frantically flailing at him but he was stronger that she, capable of swift and violent passions, something that she'd allowed herself to temporarily forget. Trying to defend herself, she fought ferociously. Swinging out with her foot, she caught his in the knee, drawing from him a short, pained growl. Grabbing her around the waist, he ripped her from the vanity bench, hurling her on their bed.

Without a moment's hesitation, she rolled toward the opposite side of the bed, desperate to escape but he was on the bed before she could move a few feet. He reached for her, but she struggled frantically, alternately threatening and cursing him. Reaching out, fully intending to slap him again, she cried out when he seized her by the wrist. Yanking her toward him, he pushed her down into the mattress before rolling on top of her, pinning her beneath him.

Reaching up to rake her sharp, oval nails across his dark face, he thwarted her again, a muttered swearword escaping his lips as they struggled. Wrapping his hand around her slender wrists, he drew them up, imprisoning them above her head. Writhing frantically, she continued to fight against his grip.

"Let me go you son of a bitch," she screamed, enraged beyond caring who heard her and what they might think.

Jerking her arms further above her head, he shook her forcefully, disquieting her.

"There's been damn little obeying over the years, but you are going to listen to me and I swear, if I have to gag you, so help me, I will."

"You wouldn't dare," she snarled, heart beating violently in her breast.

"Try me," he offered dryly

Rearing up, she tried to throw him off once more, but he was immovable. She glared at him, murder in her eyes. "Let me go, now."

Truthfully, she knew that he would not release her until he was ready to and no amount of struggling or profanities would sway him. She was his captive, until he decided otherwise. Trying to reason with him, she looked into his face but when she saw his expression, she knew there was no hope of that eventuality. Looking down, he was studying her without a trace of affectation, watching her with indifferent, unsympathetic eyes. There was not so much as a glimmer of vengeful pride or delight in his physical mastery of her.

"You think you can intimidate me," she challenged, "you can't, not like this. You're no more than a bully, but sooner or later, you'll have to let me up and when you do…"

Gripping her wrists tightly in one hand, he pressed his free hand over her mouth, silencing her mid-sentence. "The first time you banished me from my marital bed, when you denied me your body while lusting after another man, do you remember that; a defining event in our marriage, to be sure. If I were like every other man, I would have laughed in your face, thrown you on that very same bed, the one whose comforts I'd been denied and then, do you know what would have happened," he asked, with a perplexingly grim smile, "I would have taken you over and over again until I was satisfied you'd learned your place," his expression turned cynical, "under me," he finished, his voice mocking them both.

She cried out under his heavy, oppressive hand. He shook his head, signifying no, causing her to thrash about frantically.

"Stop it. I'm not done yet. If I were like every other man, I would have taken your businesses, locked you in our bedroom, which it still would have been, and then …if you raged against your treatment, I would have beaten any resentment out of you. There were many people, men and women in Atlanta, who thought less of me for letting you have you way. Do you know what that was like, to have members of the Old Guard smugly advise me on how to correct my errant wife's deportment? And of course, there was always Mr. Wilkes. Well my love, if I were like every other man, I would have called out that enervated bastard who coveted you so and shot hi-" He ripped his hand away, the impression of her teeth visible.

"Let me go," she screeched, bucking up in a futile attempt to dislodge him.

"Quiet, I am talking which means you aren't." When she opened her mouth, he sighed. Catching her jaw, he pressed his hand over her mouth, again silencing her. Leaning closer, he spoke softly "How does that make you feel, to be told to shut your mouth? To be told that I don't want to hear a word out of you? That nothing you say interests me in the least, that I am going to do whatever I want, no matter how much you may object or wish I wouldn't. Makes you angry, doesn't it?"

She nodded incoherently under his hand.

"It's only been five minutes for you, how the hell do you think I feel?" He moved his hand, allowing her to speak.

"I hate yo-"

He wrenched her wrists again, silencing her.

"You hate me, that's what you were going to tell me? That's fine, if you hate me so be it. But, while you are hating me for this, for making you listen to me, think about this; if I were like every other man, we would have moved into the new house, in spite of your aversion. I wouldn't have to give a damn about what you thought or felt if I were like every other man. If I were like every other man, I'd remind you, daily, that I own you, body and soul. The only rights you'd have would be the ones I gave you, the only-"

She turned her head, unable to continue to look at him.

"Look at me." She refused to turn her head, but undaunted, he continued to speak. "If I were like every other man, I'd take you here and now and not care if I got you with child. I wouldn't care if that baby killed you." His expression changed, the mask of supreme indifference slipped and in its place she saw the visage of a hunted creature that can sense impending doom but nonetheless still tries to outrun the crack of the rifle "And, if you did die, if having my child killed you, I'd mourn for a year, possibly two and then, with a clear conscience, not to mention the approval of society, I'd marry another woman and start over again. That's what I'd do, if I were, as you accuse me, like every other man."

She could feel the pain radiating from him, but her own agony was too acute for empathy. "You are just like every other man, the tragedy is, you think you aren't so you'll never be able to see it," she whispered softly.

He leaned close, as if he were about to kiss her, but then thought better of it."I love you Scarlett."

"I hate you Rhett," she replied tonelessly.

He shook his head slightly, denying her. "You don't hate me,"

She blinked back tears, unwilling to shed them in front of him. "I want to."

He brushed the hair off her pale face. "I know."

She was pinned beneath him but his mind was elsewhere. Some critical part of his spirit was not present; in essence, he was not there with her. And every time she spoke, she drove him still further away.

Did she want to drive him away? No and yes; what she wanted was still a mystery. Was he right, was she always so determined to have her way that she couldn't allow herself to entertain his objections? To consider his feelings and fears meant to be concerned beyond herself. To want things and be unable to have them because of circumstance was not a new experience, to want things and self deny herself… that was entirely different.

She was weeping now, silently, no longer caring if he noticed, no longer caring if he saw her as weak.

Carefully moving off of her, he rolled on to his side and, taking her in his arms, held her close. For a split second, she considered moving away, considered telling him to leave her, but in the end she nestled close to him, feeling diminutive, lost but at the same time surrounded by him.

She clung to him. She wanted to hate him, to rage at him, but the quiet had seeped deep within, silencing her, gentling her. He was also silent. Like a physical presence between them, she could feel the emptiness inside him. The passing of hope, the demise of faith: the despair in which he was ensconced


	141. A child is born

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY JANET!!!!!**

**HAPPY ALMOST BIRTHDAY JESUS!!!!**

The last christening Scarlett attended occurred a few months before Bonnie died. She hadn't wanted to attend, a christening only served to remind her of the baby she'd lost. And of babies she would never have. Those were terrible times for her. It was a time she hoped to never repeat, a time when she thought Rhett no longer cared for her.

He hadn't gone to the christening with her. She'd wanted to ask him to accompany her, though it would have gone against his stand against the new people invading Atlanta. If they had been on better terms she would have asked him to overlook the Clark's being technically carpetbaggers, but at the time, she couldn't ask.

Attending functions alone wasn't something she was incapable of doing. She'd been doing so since they parted ways socially. Why had she wanted so badly for him to go with her? At the time, she couldn't admit, not even to herself, why she wanted him to escort her. Now of course, now she could admit it. Attending a party to celebrate the birth of a child…

The baby, as she recalled, was a homely little mite, a perfectly awful blend of its buck toothed father and sallow skinned mother. Still, a baby couldn't help who it took after and so she'd made all the appropriate comments to the proud parents.

The parents, Rodney and Jessica Clark, were the owners of the Tudor Arms, one of the grand new hotels that sprang up in Atlanta in the years following the war. During the construction of the hotel, Rodney Clark bought enormous amounts of lumber from Scarlett's mills. Their transactions were pleasant ones. He paid bills promptly and in full and she, recognizing a shrewd businessman when she met one, delivered to him the best lumber the mills were capable of turning out.

Pleased with their previous business dealings and a little smitten by her charm and beauty, Rodney Clark made it a point to buy from her store whenever he found the opportunity.

Later, when his wife Jessica arrived in Atlanta, he invited Scarlett to tea to introduce the ladies. Disliking the implication that she would befriend someone as gauche and socially awkward as Jessica Clark, Scarlett nevertheless endeavored to make herself agreeable to Jessica Clark. Equally as taken with Scarlett as her husband, Jessica made certain that all the lumber used to build their mammoth house came from Scarlett.

Despite being Yankees, the Clarks were pleasant enough to deal with, certainly more so than most of the other people Scarlett associated with. Though she no longer owned the mills by the time of the christening, she thought it wise to attend anyway if only to continue to draw business for the store.

How different that christening was from the one she was currently attending. At the Clark's christening, the ladies wore magnificent silk and velvet gowns with yards and yards of fabric water-falling over elaborate bustles. Nipped in at the waist and trimmed with spangles, each dress was a work of gaudy opulence, complete with acres of delicate convent lace and heavy with too much trim.

Jewels sparkled at their wrists, around their white throats and in their hair and ears. Huge diamonds, emeralds, rubies and sapphires glittered on their delicate, white hands. Not one of them had worked a day in their lives with their hands, or so they would have you believe.

Some of the women looked ill at ease in their peacock bright finery; they were only recently able to afford the gowns on their backs and several of them seemed aware that their fantastic gowns only served to made them look more common then they already were.

Mules in horse harness described them to a t.

The food at that christening was also another tangible representation of the Clark's wealth. Crystallized fruits glittered in cut glass bowls while a rum punch sank lower and lower in a silver bowl. Waiters moved about the room with tiny marzipan cakes, sumptuous pastries and delicate crystal champagne flutes.

The Clark's party, in the opinion of those present, was a great success. Many of the women and even some of the men advanced the opinion that Atlanta had never before nor would ever again see such a lavish party.

To Scarlett's reckoning, it was no more extravagant then the crush she herself had given as a housewarming when she and Rhett first moved into the Peachtree Street house but begrudgingly she admitted to Mammy that the Clark's seemed happier at their party than she had at her's.

While the guests at the Clark's party had deemed it a great success, no one seemed genuinely happy to be present for the sake of being with the Clarks. The men and women at that christening were present to see and be seen. They were there for business, for status, for the free liqueur and food. No one was at that party for the sake of laughter or to celebrate the birth of a child.

Certainly no one at the Clark's party had been laughing so uproariously as the circle of men standing around her husband were.

He shouldn't have fit in so well among the Irish and yet, he did. She supposed it was from his years on his own that he'd acquired the ability to make himself so adaptable regardless of the surroundings.

When they first arrived, she was afraid that he would stand out, that they all would. Taking care to dress the children neatly, but in sensible clothes, she followed suit, wearing a pretty but simple linen day dress. When she came downstairs, she found Rhett waiting for her, dressed in a well cut, but unobtrusive grey suit, one he often wore when escorting his mother on calls.

They were a handsome family; she concluded with a small smile, but not showing off was undoubtedly the right decision.

The men surrounding him laughed at some witticism he'd offered to the group. Their laughter was not meant to placate their employer. It was laughter born of genuine enjoyment. She could see that they not only respected him as their employer, they liked him as a man.

He was a good man, better than she'd ever previously given him credit for being.

"You look a million miles away Scarlett."

Looking up, she found her cousin Colum smiling down at her. Handing her a small glass of punch, he sat beside her on the bench.

"Are you not having a good time," he asked anxiously.

"I'm having a good time, truly I am." She rested her hand on his sleeve, squeezing lightly to add emphasis. "I'm just a little tired. I'm sorry if it looks as if it's the company that's putting me to sleep."

_She had dozed off for nearly an hour, awakening to find herself cradled in Rhett's arms. He was still asleep when she awoke, affording her the rare opportunity to study him with his guard down._

_He was tired of fighting, as was she. Well, it was his own fault; he was the one who picked this last fight; manhandling her. Treating her as if she were his property; lock, stock and barrel. _

_Then his words, his anguished, angry words echoed in her head, crowding out her feelings of indignation._

It's only been five minutes for you; think how the hell I feel…

_No wonder he'd been so angry. How would it feel to be ignored for years on end, to feel as if you were nothing more than a checkbook? _

_Before they were married, she valued his opinion, sought him out for doses of good, sound business advice. Then they were married and suddenly, suddenly it all fell apart. She found herself trying to pretend he'd never been her friend. She turned her back on all he'd been to her, pretended that he'd never been a confidant, a protector, a man whom in the darkest midnight of her soul, she'd dreamed about._

_And Ashley…She cringed, feeling shame creep into her soul. How Ashley must have hurt his pride. Over the years, Rhett presented himself as impervious to attacks on his male pride. He'd done such a good job convincing her that she'd come to believe that he was incapable of being hurt. She took him at face value, wanting to believe he was resilient so that she didn't have to consider that she might be hurting him._

_But, he knew how she felt about Ashley when he proposed, she protested. That was true, she reasoned, but now, sitting on the other side of those wasted years she could see how much it must have hurt to lie next to the person you love only to know they wished you were someone else._

_He'd never lain next to her and wished she were someone else. Of that, she was sure. All he ever wanted was to love her and receive her love in return._

_Love. _

_Love was something she'd always taken for granted and never valued._

_How she wished she could throw her arms around his neck and tell him that he was always important to her, even when she didn't know it, but pride held her back. She couldn't bare herself, not until she knew where they stood._

_Reaching out her hand, she stroked his cheek gently. "I love you, I love you so much. After that first time, in the library at Twelve Oaks, I never thought I'd even want to be in the same room as you, let alone call you a friend. But, somehow, without me knowing, you became my heart." She lightly ran her index fingers across his lips. "How did you happen to me?"_

_A few more minutes, enjoying being close to him without him being aware. Then, she glanced at the mantle clock. It was already late._

_"Rhett," she whispered forcefully. _

_"Mmm," he groaned, flinching lightly._

_"Wake up. I need to get dressed for the christening and you've chased off Penny."_

_He opened his dark eyes and meeting her intent gaze, he nodded groggily. "Let me change, then I'll help you." Recollection changed his expression. His eyes darkened and his face became unreadable. "Unless you'd prefer that I didn't."_

_"You can help me," she said, turning shy, "if you would be so kind."_

_"Scarlett, earlier, when I…" he trailed off. She could see the trepidation in his dark eyes. "When we were arguing, did I hurt you?"_

_"No," she pressed her finger against his lips. "You didn't hurt me, but I don't want to talk about it."_

_"You should. We should talk about it."_

_"No. We shouldn't. Not right now. Later, after we get back, we'll talk then."_

_"Don't go to Atlanta."_

_Surely he must have known it was an idle threat, something that seemed true while she was packing and fuming, but she would have never actually left. "Rhett…"_

_"Please," he pulled her gently to him, "don't leave me. If you leave, I'll have to follow. I'll always come for you. I know that now. I've let you go too many times before. I won't make that mistake again. Not again, never again."_

_"Where were you?"_

_He didn't make her clarify. "I went hunting with my cousin Eustace. That's where I've been the last few days. We were shooting out by where his plantation was before the war."_

_She sat up, lightly shrugging off his arm. "Why couldn't you just tell me that downstairs, or better yet, send word that that's where you were?"_

_"Because," he moved away from her, "I wanted you to be as worried, to hurt as much as I did."_

_"We can't keep on like this," she observed, without recrimination, "we just can't Rhett."_

_"I know."_

_"We keep tearing at one another, over and over. Every time we promise that it will be the last time, but then it isn't the last time. This isn't going to ever end, is it?"_

_"Us fighting," he smiled faintly, "knowing you as I do, you and I will be fighting on my deathbed." _

_She shook her head. "I'm scared Rhett."_

_Sitting up, he wrapped his free arm around her waist. "Scared? What are you scared of honey?"_

_"I'm scared that we can't fix this, that we can't be happy together."_

_"Do you think we could be happy apart?" _

_She took a moment to think. "No." _

_Tipping her chin back, looking deeply into her troubled eyes, he smiled reassuringly. "Then we will just have to keep trying. Scarlett, give us time. No one can undo the past in a month; no matter how hard we try, we can't undo it in six weeks. We need to give ourselves time and not expect everything to fall into place overnight."_

_"But we were doing so well," she whispered, anguish creeping into her voice._

_"No. We were in a honeymoon period my dear. Now, finally, this is where the real work begins. And, it will be work. Hard work. And sometimes you'll hate me and sometimes I'll want to walk out on you. And sometimes I may walk out, despite my best intentions not to. But I will always come back. Always."_

_"I don't want to hate you."_

_"But you will. You'll hate me for a little while, but then you'll remember how much I love you and you'll stop hating me just as I'll remember how much I need to be with you."_

_"Rhett…"_

_"I love you. Just know that I'll always love you." He smiled, tracing the curve of her cheek. _

_"Always."_

"Scarlett?"

She gave him a guilty smile. "You've caught me dozing again Colum."

"Now see, that's just why I came over. If you doze off again, we'll tell everyone I was bending your ear about a free Ireland. There's no one in the place that would doubt the truth of that, and more than half present have taken a little nap when I ramble on the subject."

Her curiosity was piqued. She remembered a young man, her cousin Colum she believed, lecturing on the topic of taking back their country when she and her father were in Savannah years before. Then, she'd been confused as to what country he meant. "You're deeply involved in freeing Ireland from British rule, aren't you?"

"That's a damning question, aroon." Seeing her brow wrinkle, he began to explain, "In Irish, Aroon means…"

She was familiar with the word, from her father. "Don't you darling me Colum O'Hara, just answer me please, are you involved," she paused, lowering her voice, "in the free Ireland movement?"

"Less you know the better," said Colum gravely.

She frowned, "My father? Was he…"

"No," replied Colum emphatically. "Your father did want to see us out from under the English boot, that's true enough, but he didn't support murdering and burning. Nor do I, but that's what the Fenians were at that time, now finally we are moving towards something more. We won't win freedom at the end of the barrel of a gun, but we just might with…"

"Katie Scarlett, you darling girl, all grown up and ten times prettier then you were as a child, though that's hard to believe given what a pretty child you were."

Reluctantly turning her attention from Colum toward the old man who stood before her, Scarlett smiled sweetly all the while curing silently. Uncle James or Uncle Andrew, was it Uncle Andrew, no possibly Uncle James that stood before her waiting expectantly for a greeting. Could she guess? She would have to because, for the life of her, she could not bring to mind which of her father's brothers stood before her.

Colum cleared his throat with a loud harrumph. "A fine how do you do I get from you Uncle James, warms me heart it does."

Uncle James smiled gleefully. "If you were as pretty as your cousin, you'd have gotten a greeting first. Surely you're knowing it's the prerogative of old men to admire pretty young girls and Scarlett is one of the prettiest here."

Smiling sweetly, Scarlett lowered her lashes. "Fiddle dee dee Uncle James, how you do run on."

"Nonsense, you're the prettiest girl here and worse luck, you know it." He pinched her cheek lightly. "I'm glad you're here Jerry's girl. You remind me of wee one for all that you're a beauty like your sainted mother."

"Wee one," asked Scarlett, "who's that?"

"Wee one, why that was your father." He smiled broadly. "Aye, that's what we called Jerry when he was a wee lad." James grinned, "Of course, we still called him that when he grew up and was still a wee lad in comparison to the rest of us. But, he showed us all, built himself a huge plantation and then had the audacity to call it Tara after the seat of the high kings."

She smiled fondly. "A grand name for a grand place," she said, pride in her voice.

"And now, is his Tara gone Katie Scarlett? I was afraid to ask you for I liked better picturing it as it was, but now curiosity has the better of me."

"It's still there Uncle James."

He beamed. "That makes me happy, very happy. Who is living there now?"

"My sister Suellen and her family are living there. I'm hoping to reacquire my sister Careen's share from the church so that the land will be completely back in O'Hara hands."

"That's an undertaking. I can't see the church giving over a nun's dower without a fight."

Folding her hands demurely, she smiled up at her Uncle. "We shall see what we see," she answered enigmatically.

Laughing, he turned to Colum. "You're a priest; surely you can put in a good word for your cousin. Help her suit along."

"Uncle James, I –"

"You're on the Archbishop's staff," pressed the older man, "are you not? Didn't your cousin Maureen just tell me that you were one of his holinesses staff, I thought she did? Was she mistaken?"

Without looking at Scarlett, he nodded. "She wasn't. I am part of Archbishop Lynch's staff."

James beamed happily. "Then it's settled, you'll help your cousin Scarlett get back her sister's share."

"I don't know if there's anything I can do," answered Colum honestly. Not when one considered what Rhett Butler's already done in that quarter, thought Colum while suppressing a grin.

"James," called a voice from the crowd.

"Excuse me Katie Scarlett, I'll be back in a bit. Before I leave for Savannah, I hope you'll come to call on me." The old man suddenly looked a little bashful "If you like, bring your children and I'll tell them a bit about their Grandfather."

"I'd like that very much Uncle James. I know Wade especially would love that. Thank you."

She waited just until their uncle was out of earshot before pouncing on Colum. "You know Archbishop Lynch? Could you possibly introduce us?"

"I don't know…"

"Please Colum," pleaded Scarlett, "I wouldn't ask you if there were another way but there isn't. I'm desperate. I've tried and tried to see him, but I haven't had any luck. Perhaps if you asked him, explained to him how much it would mean to me, he'd give me just a little of his time."

"I'm afraid I'm not terribly popular with Padd--," Colum caught himself quickly, "with Archbishop Lynch these days Scarlett. He and I don't see eye to eye on certain situations. Likely I won't have a spot on his staff for to much longer."

"Because of your feelings on Ireland's freedom?"

"Most astute of you lass. Its right you are. The Archbishop isn't about to involve himself in Ireland's struggle. He's blind to the pain her people are in. Truth be told, you might do better if he doesn't know you and I are related."

"I see." She frowned thoughtfully. "You're a member of the clergy. Tell me, in all honesty, what do you think my chances are when it comes to buying back Careen's share from the church."

He looked away; towards Rhett. He was talking to a group of men that included their Uncle James. "I think that you just have to have faith."

Scarlett rolled her eyes. "That's a very priestly answer."

"Isn't it just," he admitted with a smile. "I think you stand an excellent chance, just keep the faith."

"Cousin Scarlett?"

She looked up to find a pretty auburn haired girl with bright green eyes smiling down at her.

"Hello." Scarlett gestured prettily with open hands, "You have the advantage of me, I don't know your name?"

The girl smiled. "I'm Meggie, your cousin, though a few times removed."

Scarlett offered her hand, "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Thank you for inviting us, it's a lovely party."

"I'm pleased you came. The boys," she gestured to the men surrounding Rhett, "were a bit skittish about inviting their boss but I told them, sure and just because he signs your chits don't make 'im tha King o' England," she concluded, slipping into a heavy imitation of the brogue.

"Though his wife is as pretty as a Queen," quipped Colum.

"Hush you flatter," Scarlett said laughing.

"Tis true lovey. I wonder that your pa didn't dig a moat around his place when you put your hair up and let down your skirts. Though, mayhap he was afraid the local boyos would drown."

A soft cry interrupted their banter. "She was crying for you Meggie, will you take her," said a young man bearing a small, blanket wrapped bundle.

The new mother beamed. "Cousin Scarlett," she said, reaching out for the baby, "have you met the guest of honor, Shannon Alica?"

Scarlett's smile froze on her face as she looked at the baby. "No, I haven't."

"Would you like to hold her?"

"I shouldn't…" began Scarlett, looking beseechingly at Colum, hoping he might intercede.

"Oh go on," declared Maggie, placing her daughter into Scarlett's hesitant arms, "there, see she likes you."

Lightly, Scarlett adjusted the baby's cap. It was beautifully made, fashioned from sheer cotton muslin with insets of needle-run tulle. The embroidered florets around the edge were so well done that the stitches looked as if they were woven directly into the fabric.

"The baby's cap is beautiful," said Scarlett, feeling a small lump rise in her throat.

"It is that," agreed Meggie, "Anna, that's Martin's wife, he's another cousin, she made it."

"Did she also make the gown, the stitching is very alike."

"Faith no," said Maggie laughing, "that christening dress is an O'Hara heirloom. Siobhan bought it from Savannah when she came. All the uncles wore it; your own da did as well. If you have another, then you can…" Glancing up, she found a hand on her shoulder. "Uncle James, I was just telling Scarlett about the christening gown Shannon is wearing, wouldn't it be grand if she--"

"Hush your prattling lass and let your cousin hold the baby in peace," James told her, his shrewd eyes intent on Scarlett's pale face.

"Aren't you in a mood," countered Maggie tartly, "look at her eyes cousin Scarlett, have you ever seen such blue eyes before?"

* * *

He found her sitting on a tiny log bench in the shadow of a gnarled crab apple tree. Pale gray shadows stretched across the yard, the coming dusk offering them some camouflage against prying eyes.

If she heard his approach across the gravel path, she did not acknowledge it.

Watching her, sitting on the bench, preoccupied and still, his heart broke for her. Her face held so much pain that it gave him pause. So much pain. Scarlett had endured so much pain, often alone. And now, once more, life dealt her another stinging, bitter blow. What could he say to banish such abject misery?

"Scarlett…"

"I thought I could hold her. I wanted to hold her. I wanted to see if it felt different, because now I want a baby. I've never wanted to hold a baby before, but when I looked down into that tiny face and she looked up at me with those eyes. My father's eyes, the O'Hara blue eyes," her voice hitched, "I miss her…" She pressed the palm of her hand against her eyes. "I miss her so much."

There was no need to ask who "her" was. "Sweetheart, stay here. I'll find the children, we should go home."

"I don't want to go. I just need a minute. I feel like I just need to catch my breath." She looked to him, expecting him to protest. In every line of his handsome face she could see naked concern. Concern for her from him was bittersweet. Before, he'd often been the one to hurt her, now he was her safe port from the rough sea of misery she was drowning in. Giving him a weak smile, she tried to compose her features. "You needn't worry Rhett, I'm fine, really."

"No, you aren't," he stated simply.

Scarlett made a hopeless gesture, "So I'm not all right. We both know I'm not. Good God, I just ran out of a christening to cry in the backyard of cousins I've never met before. And why? Why am I out here? All because I couldn't hold a baby without bursting into tears." Giving him a contemptuous smile Scarlett laughed, but the hurt in her voice belied any appearance of felicity. "How far I've fallen from the woman who was once willing to go between two armies just to get home."

"I'm sorry Scarlett."

"Sorry for what? Anything specific or just a general sense of sorry?"

"For saying things that hurt you, I never set out to hurt you."

From the house came the faint sounds of laughter. She tensed but when no one came outside, she continued. "You aren't sorry though; not really." Lifting her hand to stave off his next words, she continued. "I'm not trying to start another fight but you aren't sorry, so let's not pretend. You said what you thought needed saying." She surveyed him deliberating for a moment about continuing. "You don't want a baby."

"Not now," he confirmed softly.

"Or ever?"

"Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Do as I ask," he requested.

Her lips pursed into a faint pout. "Fine." Closing her eyes, she waited expectantly. "Well?"

"I want you to think about this. What if we were to try again and you miscarried?"

Her eyes flew open. "Rhett, I…"

"Close your eyes," he asked peremptorily.

Reluctantly, her eyelids lowered again.

"At best, you recover, but we've lost another child. We don't lose you, but we once again lose a child. I won't be able to show you how much I am grieving because this time, as I never was in the past, I'll have to be strong for you. I will never be able to let you know how much pain I'm in because for you, it will be even worse. You'll be in agony because this time you will know the anticipation of waiting for the birth of our child and the devastation that will come in the wake of losing it."

I lost Bonnie. Losing her broke something inside of me. Learning of and then losing our baby in the span of a few minutes, I've never forgotten for a minute that I killed our child. Our children. I killed our children. I have to live with that every day."

"I told you that you weren't solely responsible," she cried, "we both…"

"I provoked you knowing that you would lose your temper, I wanted to hurt you. I succeeded. I petted and spoiled Bonnie until she was completely out of control, until she…Scarlett, I can't bury another child. I couldn't live through that loss. Not again. Can you live with burying another child?"

"No," she whispered, looking at her wedding ring. Looking back to meet Rhett's intent gaze, she shook her head slowly, "No, I can't…and neither can you."

She looked into his face for confirmation and found it. Found his fear, his pain, his need to control her through threats and bullying rather than just telling her the truth. No, he couldn't live through the loss of another child. That had been the underlying factor that she'd refused to acknowledge. The loss of Bonnie had changed him, damaged him in a way that would likely never heal.

Extending her hand to him, she silently asked him to help her up. "Do you love me?"

The brooding anxiety of the day slipped away from Rhett. Reaching out to touch her face, he smiled. "You have to ask?"

She smiled faintly, lifting her shoulders in a small shrug.

He pulled her close, his arm resting lightly, but possessively around her waist. "Even after all this time, you still don't see, do you? I love you. God help me, I love you. No one else before you, no one else since the day I met you. It's always been you," he murmured leaning close, "only you, for the rest of my life…" he told her before pressing his lips against hers.

She sighed and leaned in closer, not resisting his embrace. He brushed a kiss across her cheekbone before resting his check against hers.

Lightly he traced the curve of her spine with his fingertips. They would have to go inside soon, he thought as he kissed her again. They would need to arrange their expressions as well as their clothes into some semblance of order. Her family would allow them to come back without comment. They were a close knit family, loyal and clannish as the Irish were often wont to being, and they had already begun the process of welcoming Scarlett and her children into their protective fold.

If there is going to be peace between them, Rhett thought, holding her close to his heart, they will have to figure out a way to determine once and for all the truth of what could happen if she tries to carry a child again. For now, she will let the matter fall to the wayside. She doesn't want to, he knows she doesn't, but she loves him.

Looking down he smiled. Her eyes are closed but her lips are slightly pursed on the off chance that he will kiss her again. God help her, she loves him in spite of all the reasons why she shouldn't. She loves him enough to give up her dream of having a child because she doesn't want to hurt him. When he refused to consider a child out of fear for her, it meant nothing. She is too reckless to fear for her own life. It would never occur to her not to take a chance, to leap without looking.

But, she will not force him to face losing another child. She doesn't want to watch him mourn another child. After Bonnie died, she tried to reach out to him. He could sense a change in her, an invitation that had been long absent but at the time, he was too embroiled in his own guilt and grief to acknowledge her attempts to comfort him.

He should have told her that initially, that he didn't want to risk losing another child. If he told her that truth, he might have saved them both a great deal of hurt feelings and heartache over the last few weeks.

But, in time, the conversation will once more turn toward having a child. She will eventually convince him because in his heart, he wants nothing more than another child by her.

Loving Scarlett is perilous. His love for her leaves him open to a plethora of emotions that are still new and strange to him even after loving her for over a decade. He is more fascinated by her now than he ever was; and every instinct he possesses tells him that fascination is only going to grow stronger with time.

* * *

**_And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were afraid._**

**_The angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,_**

**_Glory to God in the highest, peace on earth, and good will toward all men._**

**_A happy Christmas and a joyous holiday season to you all._**


	142. Many happy returns

**Happy New Year! Little late, but better then never**

* * *

Scarlett carefully folded a shirtwaist, placing it in the open trunk. Glancing around the bedroom, she looked for anything she might have left out. Satisfied that everything she would need was in the trunk, she closed it, fastening the lock with a small gold key that she kept on a ring along with the key to her safe deposit box and her jewelry case.

Placing the key ring on top of the vanity table, she went to the small writing table in front of the fireplace. After filling out several small cards with the address of the Peachtree Street house, she then wrote notes to Julia Ashley apologizing for her hasty departure and to Sally explaining why she was leaving Charleston.

When Penny finished packing Wade's things she could run Sally's note over to her and perhaps ask if Sally would get the other note to Julia. Looking at the clock on the mantle, Scarlett frowned thoughtfully. Their train was leaving at seven in the morning and it was already 8 o'clock. The children would need to be in bed soon if they were going to wake up on time in the morning.

The beginnings of one of her headaches were faint shadows on the edge of her consciousness. She needed to continue preparing them for their departure. The sooner she finished, she thought wearily, the sooner she could go to bed.

At the sound of the door opening, Scarlett put aside her letters.

"Finished packing," asked Rhett quietly.

"Very nearly," replied Scarlett, furrowing her brow slightly. "I feel as if I am forgetting something, but I can't seem to recall what."

"Me perhaps?" Rhett asked with a shrug.

She stood, crossing the room slowly without her cane; coming to stand before him.

"You are still supposed to use your cane," he pointed out.

"And I have been," she replied, "but I also need to work on not relying on it so I can rebuild my strength. At least if I fall in our bedroom there are plenty of things to use to help me back up."

He reached out to adjust the brooch at the neck of her gown. "You aren't overtaxing yourself, are you?'

Cupping her hand over his, she squeezed his fingers lightly. "Would you expect me to answer honestly?"

"With you, I never know for sure what to expect, the truth or a convenient lie."

Resting her palm lightly against his chest, she smiled. "At least take this to be true, I could never forget about you."

"It seemed as if you had."

Pressing her hand gently against his heart, she rolled her eyes. "Not Ashley again."

His eyes darkened; otherwise there was no outward sign as to what he might be thinking. "It was a surprise to find him here this afternoon, unannounced."

"He came as fast as he could, you heard what he said. He meant to send a telegram but he ended up just catching the train here from Colombia."

"The logical part of me knows that. The part of me that wants to break his neck every time we are in a room together doesn't acknowledge logic."

Her green eyes narrowed. "Its going to be a long train ride tomorrow, isn't it?"

"No" Taking her hand in his, he moved it from his chest and lifted it to his lips. Pressing a brief kiss on her palm, he exhaled deeply. "By tomorrow, I will put my feelings of hatred aside and I promise you, I will be the very embodiment of amiability."

"I'll ask Penny to run to Market Street. Which would you prefer, a red or a white rose?"

"I don't know, why?"

"Because if you are going to embody amiability, you'll need to wear a rose in your buttonhole so I will recognize you."

He smirked. "Very amusing my pet."

Scarlett smiled briefly before her expression took on a more serious cast. "Is Wade alright do you think? He hasn't said very much."

Wrapping his arms around her, he kissed her forehead. "What is there for him to say Scarlett? She was the closest thing he's had over the years to a grandmother; it can't be easy for him or Henry." Rhett's face clouded at the thought of the dignified elderly lawyer. "Poor old man, first Charles, and then Melanie, now Pitty…Wade is all that's left of the Hamilton's."

"There's still Beau."

"Yes, but Melly's son, I suspect isn't quite the same as Charles'. He is going to want us to return to Atlanta, to have Wade nearby," he told her, slightly curious as to what she might say.

However, she did not disappoint him.

"If he expects us to come back, well I suppose he is going to be disappointed. I feel sorry that so long passed without Wade seeing Pitty. But feeling sorry isn't going to make me want to move back to Atlanta."

"I'm glad to hear you say that."

"It's not the first time that I've told you I wanted to stay in Charleston."

"Yes, but considering that you were just packing your things to return to Atlanta--"

"Oh that," she dismissed him airily. "I wasn't really going to leave and go back to Atlanta."

"And yet, ironically, here we are, going back to Atlanta."

"For the week. That's all. Then we are coming back here."

"Had you written to Pitty at all since you came here?"

"Several times, not as much as I probably should have. I'm sorry that I hadn't seen her in so long. She was silly and scatterbrained, but when I first came to stay with her she was very glad to have me. She was determined that I should be loved and taken care of because I had made Charlie happy." Scarlett smiled faintly. "If it hadn't been for her distinct lack of abilities when it came to chaperoning, I might not be here with you now."

He chuckled softly. "Yes, I do have Pitty to thank for making it so easy to see you."

"She was very fond of you; really, she was a good hearted person."

"God rest her soul," said Rhett. Touching her face lightly, he brushed his knuckles against the soft skin of her cheek. "And what of you Mrs. Butler, how are you feeling?"

"I feel fine. Today was a long day and then to come home from the christening and find out that Pitty had passed on," she sighed softly, "I know it sounds selfish, but I wish that we could have just come home and not found Ashley."

"That doesn't sound selfish at all, I've often wished that I would come home and not find Ashley Wilkes," teased Rhett.

"I just need to finish the packing and make sure the children are ready," said Scarlett, ignoring Rhett's jest. "Once the trunks are downstairs, I'll go to bed."

"You're sure that you are feeling up to this? First a long train ride and then what's waiting for us once we arrive? I could go, make your excuses. I'll take Wade if you like."

"No Rhett. I have to go even if everyone there spits in my face." She shivered uncontrollably despite the warmth of their room. "And they probably will. God help me, no one in the whole of Atlanta is speaking to me, not the old guard, not even the carpetbaggers I used to call friends."

Suddenly she was in his arms, her now wet cheek pressed fast against the smooth fabric of his shirt. His hand stroked her hair gently, and when he finally spoke, his voice was gentle as well. "There, there, darling," he said tenderly. "Don't cry. I promise you, no one is going to spit in your face while I'm beside you. Anyone who tries will have me to deal with."

She longed to stay in the circle of his arms forever. Tomorrow would come sooner that she would like it to. Tomorrow would bring more tears, tomorrow would bring Atlanta and India Wilkes and all the other people who would openly condemn her, openly scorn her. Tomorrow would bring another goodbye, a goodbye to a woman who'd never wished her any ill, who had never wished anyone ill.

Wrapping her arms around his waist, she drew closer, wanting to lose herself for a little while. With his strong arms about her, nothing could break through to hurt her.

Searching his pocket he finally produced a crisp folded linen handkerchief.

"Wipe your eyes," he said. When she made no move to take the handkerchief, he gently blotted the tears from her face. "I have my own packing to finish. Really I should go to the mine offices and make sure everything is in order for the week." His eyes strayed to the clock "Would you mind?"

"No. I still need to finish here."

He kissed her lips, softly. "I'll be back soon."

Taking the offered handkerchief, she finally wiped her eyes. "What would I do without you," she teased softly.

"A question you've had to find an answer for too many times before," he observed solemnly.

Her eyes darkened. She corrected him gently, not wanting him to leave misunderstanding her again. "That wasn't how I meant it."

"I know sweetheart, I know. I promise you, you will never have to find an answer to that question again."

"I love you Rhett Butler."

"And I love you Scarlett Butler." He lifted the hand bearing his ring to his lips. "Despite my best attempts to the contrary."

"You didn't want to love me," she asked smugly.

"My pet, who in their right mind would want to fall in love with a woman like you?"

"There were plenty of men who fell in love with me."

"My point exactly. You are a woman that attracts the attention and," he smirked, "imagination of other men. Not to mention you are bright, opinionated, stubborn and very beautiful."

"Would you rather a stupid, ugly, dull wife?"

He laughed at her indignation. "I had rather thought I'd never have a wife at all. As I once told you, I am not a marrying man. If I thought I could have had you without the benefit of a ring and clergy, I might have been sorely tempted to try and hold out."

She blushed. "As I recall, you could have."

He shook his head, cupping her chin gently in the palm of his hand. "No, I couldn't have. Not then when you offered yourself in exchange for the tax money for Tara. You would have hated me and I think that exchange would have wounded you, irrevocably."

"It's hard to say, selling myself to Frank wasn't that much better. At least with you I might have--" This time her skin colored a deep red, and she looked down, suddenly shy.

He laughed. "Do you remember when I came to you after the funeral? I asked you to marry me in Pitty's fussy, over decorated library. Do you know what she said to me on the front steps as I was leaving?"

"No. I didn't even know you'd seen her."

"She told me that I was such a dear friend to you and then she told me that she was going to count on me to keep you from sliding into melancholy over Frank's death."

Scarlett laughed. "And I bet you just lapped that up, didn't you?"

"I promised her I would do my best."

"Mm hmm," Scarlett murmured.

"I thought marrying you would definitely do the trick."

"Speaking of Frank, I don't think we should take Ella with us. Do you think we could leave her with Miss Eleanor?"

"Why would you want to leave her?"

"I don't want to leave her, but I don't think we should take her." Her voice was rich with emotion. "She's still so small Rhett; she doesn't know all the awful things about me that Wade does. Oh I know Suellen spilled as much venom as she could to both of them, but Ella…I don't want her to see or hear any more about me, about who I was when we lived in Atlanta. You've seen the way she looks at me now, as if I couldn't do any wrong. I admit it, I'm afraid to lose that."

"The south is a remarkably small place Scarlett; you won't be able to keep her in the dark forever."

"I'm not hoping for forever, I'm hoping to shield her until she's old enough to make her own judgments." Scarlett twisted his handkerchief tight. "That isn't the only reason. I don't want to take her to the funeral. It's the rest of the things that go with it. She's seen so much death, been touched by it for so much of her life. I don't want to expose her to more. She's going to be a little girl for only so long and already she's seen and heard more than any three children should."

He nodded, "Alright, I'll ask mother if she'll mind, though I don't think she will. But you'll have to explain to Ella, explain to her carefully that we aren't abandoning her."

She frowned, biting her lip as she contemplated his words. "Do you think she'll see it that way? I don't want to hurt her even more while I'm trying not to hurt her."

"Explain gently is my advice, tell her we are going but we will be back in a few days." He smiled, "Tell her we'll bring her a huge gift, if she's her mother's child that will go a long way towards placating her."

Her eyes sparkled merrily. "Fiddle-dee-dee, how you do go on. What's so wrong about liking gifts? It's no crime to like gifts, is it?"

"No my dear, although I've always felt it criminal that I didn't kiss you when I brought you that green bonnet during the war." Taking her in his arms again, he leaned down, his lips next to her ear. "Do you recall what I told you then? You should be kissed and often…"

Her lips twisted into a smirk. "Yes, I do remember that," she said softly, turning toward his lips, "but then you pointed out that it should be by someone who knew how to kiss." Her tone sharpened playfully, "Not very romantic, in my opinion, to be reminded that you'd kissed so many other women besides me."

"Practice does make perfect."

"Does it," she replied thoughtfully, "I hope you think I'm perfect otherwise I suppose I'd have to find someone to practice wit-," His lips were on hers, kissing her incessantly until she was nearly breathless.

"Don't faint my dear," he commented once he released her, "I don't have any smelling salts about me."

Taking her cane from the chair on which she'd hung it, she leaned on it for a moment, attempting to recover her bearings.

"It's nice to know that my kisses still affect you, even after all these years."

Rolling her eyes she turned and walked out of the room without a word. He was close behind her and she could hear him laughing softly to himself. That sound sent a thrill of desire through her body. It seemed indecent, to be laughing and teasing while planning to leave for a funeral but strangely, she didn't think Pitty would mind so much.

She stopped in front of Wade's door. Rhett had followed her down the hall, his steps now stilled as he waited for her to proceed.

"Do you want me to talk to him? I could do that before I go to the mine office."

"No, I'll do it but please, hurry back," said Scarlett, turning to Wade's door.

"I'll be back before you are ready for bed," promised Rhett.

"Kiss me," she demanded suddenly.

His dark eyes flared with interest. "You are suddenly very bold Mrs. Butler; pray what's brought that on?"

"The reminder that life is short and I've wasted enough of it already, now kiss me before you go."

There was no more word play between them, nothing in the dim gas light of the hall but the two of them, mouths pressed together. He kissed her fiercely, headless of the fact that they were in the hallway of his mother's house, that anyone could chance upon them while they were locked in this less than chaste embrace.

She moaned softly when his hands slid up from her waist and spanned her ribcage. His fingers her warm through the fabric of her dress and she could easily picture how they would feel against her naked skin.

Kissing him back, she ran her fingers through his crisp black hair, lightly teasing the skin at the back of his neck with the tips of her nails.

"Witch," he muttered, when he drew away.

"Better than some other names you've called me over the years," she retorted breathlessly.

He chuckled softly. Kissing her cheek this time, he gestured toward Wade's room. "Good luck."

"Thank you."

Waiting until she heard his steps descending the stairs, she took a breath, squared her shoulders and knocked lightly on Wade's bedroom door.

A muffled, indecipherable sound came from the other side of the door, one which Scarlett translated as an invitation to enter.

Wade lay quietly on his still made bed with his hands behind his head. His face was composed but his eyes; red rimmed from a recent bout of tears, betrayed the boy's inner emotions. He tried to show no sign of emotion at finding his mother in his bedroom but seemed to flinch lightly at the sight of her.

She tried to smile but the smile died before it began. "Wade, how are you?"

He continued to stare up at the canopy over his head. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. "I hate you in black. Every time I've ever seen you in a black dress it means that someone I love is dead."

"Sweetheart…"

"I remember you leaving to go somewhere in a black dress when I was small, before Ella was born. When you came back, I found out grandpa Gerald had died. Then Bonnie and Aunt Melly. Now Aunt Pitty. I wish you never had to wear black again."

"You know what, I wish that I never had to wear black again, but that's an impractical wish. We both know that I'll have to wear a black dress again."

"I hate black," he said, looking away from her.

"Do you want to talk about Pitty at all?"

"Why, it won't bring her back."

Sitting next to him on the bed, she lightly pinched the back of his hand. He yelped immediately, drawing his hand away from her. Sitting up, he rubbed at the faint pink mark on the back of his hand. "Why did you do that," he asked, his voice losing its morose tone.

"Because I'm not very good at being comforting if you want the honest answer."

"Apparently," he muttered while still rubbing his hand. "Still, a simple there there would have sufficed."

"I don't have a lot of experience with comforting. You would think I would, since so many people I know have died but..." she drifted off, looking at her solemn but handsome son, she suddenly smiled. "When your father died, everyone told me that I would be comforted by having his child."

Wade smiled a little. "I can't see you being very comforted by a screaming baby."

She touched his hand, this time petting it fondly. "Darling, a sixteen year old, well seventeen by the time you were born, a seventeen year old isn't likely to be comforted by the thought of being a mother, whether the baby screams or doesn't. Being a mother is a frightening thing, I hadn't wanted to be a mother so soon, not because I didn't want you," she swiftly added, "but because I was too young to know what I wanted."

Her confession stirred his interest. Repositioning himself until his legs were crossed beneath him, he regarded his normally enigmatic mother with undisguised interest. "Didn't anyone comfort you, after my father died?"

A part of her wanted to turn her face, to hide her emotions from the eager young man her son was becoming, but she knew that to reach him in his grief she would have to expose herself. "No. No one wanted to talk about it. Not when it first happened. It was a tragedy; he died so young, so soon after we were married."

"But why didn't your parents talk to you about it, didn't they like him? Were they sad that he died?"

"Of course they did. They liked him. My father liked your daddy very much; he gave him his blessing immediately. My mother liked him too but she had been reluctant to give her blessing, because he was going away to war. I suppose she considered what would happen if …if something were to happen to Charlie." Scarlett smiled fondly, looking at Wade's hair. The color was so like Ellen's, one of the few things he'd inherited from her family. "That was my mother, she thought of everyone and she was good at looking ahead. Not like me. I always leapt before I looked. More times than not, I landed on the rocks that were waiting below."

"I think you're good at looking ahead," Wade said, swiftly jumping to her defense, "you took care of everyone at Tara and you took over Uncle Frank's store and the mills. Everyone says you're just as smart as any man."

"That's not true," she winked, "I'm smarter."

Wade giggled. "And modest too."

Patting her hair, she smiled at him sweetly before swiftly looking away. "Yes I am."

"Don't teach Ella to do that," he said dryly, "otherwise I'll end up shooting some young fool one day."

"Poor boor," she said, "your sister is going to lead her beaux a merry chase. I can already tell."

"I'll look forward to that," he rebutted sarcastically before grinning. "Actually, I'm not really worried."

"Oh no?"

"No. I forgot about Uncle Rhett. Can you imagine when that first poor boy comes to court Ella? He'll be lucky if Uncle Rhett doesn't shoot him on the spot."

"I'm sure it won't be quite that dramatic."

Wade laughed. "I don't know about that."

Mother and son shared a quiet moment, smiling as the image Wade had painted.

"You're right," Scarlett finally conceded, "he'll most likely be insufferable."

"Do you still miss your mother?"

"All the time. Wade darling, I don't expect you to stop missing people you've lost. But you need to live in the present, not in the past. Don't forget but don't dwell."

"When your mother died, that was when we got back to Tara after we left Atlanta? After the siege?"

Trying to keep the heartache from her voice, she answered simply. "Yes, she died right before I got home."

"Didn't anyone say they were sorry for you? Mammy? Aunt Melly? Anyone?"

"When my mother died, everyone needed me to be strong, to take care of them."

"They wanted you to be like Grandma Ellen and take care of everyone, so I guess no one told you they were sorry she died," observed Wade. "What about when Grandpa Gerald died?"

"When my father died, Uncle Frank couldn't come to Tara with me so I had to go alone."

"Because he didn't want to face Aunt Sue?"

"He had to keep his eye on the store and the mill. But yes," she admitted, "I suppose part of it was facing my sister, it would have been awful for him, for them both. Mrs. Tarlatan did try to comfort me a little. Grandma Fontaine as well, I didn't understand what she told me then, but I do now. Other than them, my sisters were each involved in their own grief so we didn't comfort each other. Sue and I were never close and Careen was in a deep state of grief from losing my parents and her beau." Her eyes took on a distant cast, "I guess Frank tried to comfort me when I came back to Atlanta but he wasn't good at being what I needed."

"Not like Uncle Rhett?"

She laughed unintentionally. "Good lord no. Uncle Rhett and comforting...," she gestured helplessly, "I suppose he could have been, if he wanted to be but-…this isn't something we should be talking about. I forgot myself, I'm sorry."

"I don't mind, I'd rather talk about anything except Aunt Pitty."

"That's not right either Wade. She was a good, sweet lady. She loved you so much. I remember the first time I came to Atlanta. She was so glad to have me come and stay and when she saw you, I thought I was going to have to wrestle you away from her. She didn't want to let you go."

Wade nodded. "She raised my father and Aunt Melly; she was like a mother to them. I wonder if she was ever sorry that she had to raise them, that she didn't get married and have her own babies, her own life."

"I don't think she ever regretted being their mother. She loved them both; I never saw any sign of regret. I think Pitty was happy, as happy as anyone can be."

His face crumpled a little. "I'm going to miss her so much. We saw her, when Aunt Emily brought us here. She kept hugging me and I was getting annoyed, because Beau kept laughing. I told her that I was too old for hugs," he looked at his mother, tears in his soft brown eyes, "why did I tell her that? Why didn't I just keep letting her hug me? She was just hugging me because she missed me but I snapped at her."

"Honey, come here." When he made no motion to come near her, she grew stern. "Come here or so help me, I'll pinch you again."

He made a sound between a laugh and a sob before going into her arms. For a time he cried, cried like the child he still was in his mother's embrace. When his tears subsided, he began to move away from her, but she wouldn't let him go. "You were wrong you know," he said softly, "you're very good at comforting after all."

Stroking his hair, she laughed softly. "For the love of heaven Wade, don't go telling anyone else that, next thing I know, I'll have everyone coming to me with their problems."

"You're probably right; I can't promise you that I won't come to you now when I need someone to comfort me."

Scarlett smiled. "You can come to me whenever you want, I'll always be here for you."

"If I told you I were too old for hugs, would that have hurt you badly," he asked, still thinking of his last words to Pitty.

"Certainly not," she said soothingly.

"Truly?"

"Well," she admitted reluctantly, "I would probably kick you in the behind if you told me something like that, but Pitty was more of a lady than I am."

"That's not true," he declared so vehemently that the passion in his voice made her start lightly. "You are the greatest lady I know."

"Oh Wade, surely-"

"No. You are. You take care of everyone and no one ever takes care of you but you still just keep taking care of everyone anyway. I hope that one day I marry someone just like you."

"You try something like that and I promise you, I will kick you in the pants."

She stroked his hair again, feeling his body begin to lean heavily on her, she asked, "Are you still awake?"

"Mm hmm," he murmured sleepily.

She laid him gently down on his pillow. "Go to sleep sweetheart."

"Didn't pack yet," he muttered, trying to sit back up.

She pushed him back. "I'll pack for you. Just try and get some sleep. We have a long day tomorrow; you'll need all the rest you can get."

"Thank you mother."

"You're welcome," she said, leaning over to brush a kiss on his forehead.

"Love you," he said before yawning hugely.

"I love you too sweetheart, with all my heart," she replied, only mildly surprised to find what she said was true. Wade and Ella, they were the only constants in her life. Husbands had come and gone, her sisters were practically strangers, the few people she still had ties to were slowly fading away but her children, they were a part of her. It had taken years for her to realize their worth but now that she had-

"Mother?"

His voice took her from her thoughts. "Yes Wade?"

"Don't have to be afraid when we get to Atlanta. Anyone who is mean to you, they'll be sorry."

She smiled, amused that her son had just echoed his stepfather's earlier promise. "Well then," she said, draping a throw blanket over him, "with you to look out for me, what do I have to worry about?"


	143. As the time draws nigh

**.Sorry its taken so long for an update, school and life have been crazy but my finals are coming back with a 97, a 91 and a 5...lol and that's a five out of 5 may I add.**

**Thank you everyone whose stuck by me. If my memory serves, in two weeks time it will be the fourth anniversary of Facing the Enemy. Out of curiosity, how many of you were with me through those first chapters while I was posting this and finishing the Lady at the same time?**

**I know Dani, Bluesneak, and Kendra have been here since Day Uno. Thanks girls for sticking with it.**

* * *

For the two hours Scarlett had been sleeping soundly, oblivious to the continuous racket of the train. Not even the occasional screech of the brakes woke her. Initially, she'd told him that she was only going to rest her eyes for a moment, but soon a moment turned into ten minutes, then twenty. Now, nestled close into his side, she continued to sleep.

Reaching his arm around her waist, Rhett carefully drew her closer to keep her from falling forward in the event of the train stopping short. Moving a dark lock of hair from her face, he smiled faintly at the serene look of tranquility she wore.

Scarlett asleep was always a thing of beauty. Slumber smoothed over the few lines that gently etched themselves at the corners of her eyes. Sleep made her look years younger. To him, biased as he knew he was, she looked no older than the young widow he'd married in the fall of 1868.

Her brow wrinkled lightly. Sighing softly, she leaned against him, exhaling deeply when she was finally settled. He smiled again, the smile gentling the hard lines of his dark face.

Watching her sleep, he couldn't help but recall the train ride to New Orleans just after they were married. Then, she'd been nervous, still flustered after their first night together as man and wife. For once, he'd chosen to be kind to her, understanding her reluctance toward facing the feelings he'd briefly awakened in her.

_Leaning over her, he pressed a kiss against her temple. "Scarlett, we're almost there."_

_"That's good." She wriggled in her seat, "I can't wait till we get there. I ache all over."_

_He smiled. "You aren't used to this, traveling I mean?"_

_"No. I've only ever been a few places and no where further than Tara since the war."_

_"Well then, I will endeavor to make this trip an adventure, the first of many."_

_She smiled sweetly. "You are good to me Rhett."_

_"Too good," he teased, reaching to draw her close. But, at his touch, she stiffened slightly, shattering the illusion that they were growing closer. He tried to tell himself that she would overcome her feelings for the wooden headed Mister Wilkes. It would just take time._

He wondered, would it have made the ensuing years with Scarlett easier if he'd know that it really was just a matter of time.

Feeling the eyes of their traveling companion on them, Rhett lifted his head to find Ashley Wilkes studying them intently.

His expression changed swiftly, the earlier warmth, present while watching Scarlett sleep, faded completely. "**Te** **adiuvāre** **possum**?" Rhett asked softly, mindful of Scarlett.

"No. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare."

Watching him with cool disdain, Rhett shrugged. "Then don't."

Refusing to be frozen out by Rhett's cold tone, Ashley shook his head. "It's just that I was just thinking about when we last spoke in Atlanta."

Recalling their conversation in the graveyard, Rhett's jaw tightened slightly, but otherwise his expression remained fixed. "Our exchanges over the years have been of little or no consequence to me. I've never felt an overt need to reflect on them after the fact."

Ashley did not rise to the barb. "You told me things were different between the two of you, I'll admit to you, I didn't actually believe you."

"Ashley, you doubted me?" Rhett shrugged, "You wound me. Truly you do."

"I didn't believe you then, not after knowing how badly things had deteriorated between the two of you. But now, after seeing how you are when you're near her, you were right," he conceded softly, "things have changed." Turning his silver grey eyes to Scarlett, he watched her sleep for a minute. "For the better, it would seem."

"Far be it from me to argue with an astute scholar of human nature such as you."

His grey eyes clouded. Drawing a reluctant breath, he met Rhett's dark gaze, holding it steadily. "Then, take this as being just as true, this is going to be terribly hard on her."

There was something in Ashley's voice, a warning that was unmistakable. "I imagine so," replied Rhett, in a businesslike manner, "wakes and funerals are so often hard on people. Scarlett is no exception."

"When we reach Atlanta, nothing there will have changed for her. The welcome or lack thereof she will receive when we reach Atlanta, it will be hard for her, to face their derision."

"She won't give a damn," Rhett replied dismissively," she never has before, why should she start now?"

"She will care though. I know you must see that too. I've seen how it is for her in Charleston," pressed Ashley, "your mother, your sister, the servants…they all treat her with respect, with love. Even your oldest friends, the bastions of Charleston society, they think highly of her, they like her. She is admired and approved of." He smiled warmly. "That must please her tremendously. Scarlett's always wanted the society of other women, even if she never acknowledged that longing."

With bitter reflection, he silently acknowledged the validity of Ashley's observation. Aloud, he said mildly, "As soon as we've paid our respects to Miss Pitty, we'll go home. These next few days will be a bad memory in a week or two."

Running a hand through his silver hair, Ashley looked out the inner compartment window. Across the way, Beau and Wade were occupying a separate compartment. Rhett had purchased both for the trip with the hopes that Ashley and the boys would sit in one while he and Scarlett occupied the other. That hope disappeared when Scarlett dispatched the boys so that the adults could travel in relative peace and quiet.

Wade was laughing heartily at something his younger cousin was saying. The afternoon sun filtering through the sooty windows lit Wade's face causing his features to seem sharper, making him appear more man than boy. Turning his attention back to Rhett, Ashley looked anxious. "When we get to Atlanta, you think you know how it's going to be there for her? How people are going to treat her?"

"Yes, I know," he conceded grudgingly. "It won't be pleasant, but I'm sure we'll manage, but I do thank you for your concern."

Ashley sat quietly, seemingly grappling with something for a time before speaking. "There's a rumor about her, something recent that---"

Rhett chuckled softly. "When is there not a rumor about Scarlett?'

Deciding to be blunt, Ashley shook his head. "You don't understand, this time it is something serious."

Laughing, Rhett glanced down at Scarlett. "Let me guess, what are the gossips saying…." He made a pretense of considering what the rumor could be. "I have it. Scarlett's run off, leaving me flat and is currently living abroad as a courtesan to a foreign head of state." He grinned, "Under an assumed name and identity of course, which is how those things work, is it not?"

"No, you must listen…"

"It's as likely a scenario as any. I can see it now, Scarlett, an intimate with the crowned heads of Europe. Of course, if I were the wife of one of those crowned heads, I would dispatch Scarlett straight away."

"People are saying that Wade isn't Charles son. They think he's my son."

Rhett's head came up abruptly. "What did you say?" The cool, insolent gaze was gone now, his face wiped clean of all emotion save savage blinding anger, anger so all consuming it was almost primitive in nature. His face was that of a man who would not rest until retribution was meted out to those guilty of transgressions against those he loved.

"I think you heard me."

"Let's just suppose I didn't, say it again."

"I said there are people who are saying Wade Hampton is my son."

"How? How is there any feasible way that you could be Wade's father."

"It's supposed that Scarlett and I…that we were intimate."

"I understand that how you fool, I mean how do people supposed to have happened."

Under Rhett's cold gaze, Ashley gritted his teeth and told him. "According to rumor, I bedded her before the barbeque we had at Twelve Oaks for my birthday. That she was so quick to marry Charles because she realized she was with child and had to hide it."

Scarlett stirred lightly stopping the torrent of angry words that were about to pour from Rhett's lips. Reaching down, he brushed the back of his hand across her cheek, waiting to see if she would open her eyes. When she didn't, he raised his head. "She was all of sixteen years old. She was barely more than an innocent, if headstrong, child. A child crying out for the moon," he added softly. His hands clenched tightly. "Who?"

"Rhett…"

Feeling curious eyes upon them, Rhett turned his head to find Wade and Beau watching. "Wave," he muttered though gritted teeth.

"What?"

"At my son and yours, wave."

Both men lifted a hand, waving slightly to the two boys. Grinning, both boys waved back before ducking out of sight.

Turning back to Ashley, he spoke in a tone so cold it chilled the marrow in Ashley's bones. "When you felt the pressing need to take her in your arms at the mill, when you forever destroyed what was left of her reputation in Atlanta, when you sent us all off on a path that would cost us dearly," he paused, adding bitingly, "you do remember that afternoon, don't you?"

Ashley nodded mutely.

"That night, before the party, I confronted Scarlett. God bless her or damn her, she tried to deny what happened. She went so far as to tell me that I should have killed anyone who told me, that they should have been punished for telling lies. Did she ever tell you about that conversation?"

"No"

"Ah. Here and I thought the two of you were so close. Well, no matter. I told Scarlett that I had a strange revulsion to killing people who spoke the truth. By that same token, I have no qualms about killing anyone who spreads lies about my wife." He leaned forward, carefully so as not to dislodge Scarlett, his eyes glittering dangerously. "Who was it?"

"What good will knowing do? Giving you a name or names so that you can tear off and beat someone to a bloody pulp? That isn't going to help; in fact, it will only hurt her reputation still further."

A slow smile spread across his dark face. "What have you ever cared for her reputation? The last time rumors were circulating about her, when half the town swore that you two had been caught in the midst of in flagrante delicto, what did you do? You hid behind your wife's skirts."

The mention of Melanie spurred him to anger as none of Rhett's barbs could. "Completely unlike the way you turned tail and ran away to your mother," he countered.

A muffled groan, hardly louder than a murmur silenced both men. Yawning behind her hand, Scarlett stretched demurely. "I can't believe I slept this whole time. "

"You needed to sleep," replied Rhett, his voice slightly gruff with concern, "how do you feel?"

"Fine, just a little sore from sitting so long."

"That's to be expected. I shouldn't have let you sleep as long as I did, but I thought you needed to rest." Rhett withdrew his pocket watch. "We're nearly there. As soon as we reach Atlanta, we'll go to the house for a little while."

"The house," she murmured indistinctly. Looking up at Ashley, she smiled brightly, but there was a fragile, brittle quality to her smile. "The boys, have either of you checked on them?" When neither man spoke, she sighed. "Men," she concluded with a smile to show that neither of them was in trouble. "Ashley, would you mind going to see if they're ready?"

"Of course my dear, it would be my pleasure."

Watching Ashley through the window as he opened the door to the other compartment, Scarlett shook her head. "I don't want to stay in that house."

"Scarlett…"

She turned to face him, "You don't want to either, do you? Wade won't want to, I know he won't. And besides, why should we stay there? It's not a home, it never was. It's barely more than a hotel; and if we're staying at a hotel, I think we should just stay at the National."

Taken slightly aback at the vehemence in her voice, Rhett took her hand. Though it trembled slightly in his own, from the determined set of her chin and the defiance in her eyes he could see that her convictions were firm. "You're sure?"

"Yes."

"Absolutely?"

"Absolutely."

He smiled. "Your wish madam, is my command."

She smiled back. "You didn't want to stay in that house either, did you?"

"Not particularly, no," he admitted candidly.

"Before the week is out, we need to go to the house. I do want to see it one last time, I don't know why, but I do."

"As the time draws nigh glooming a cloud, a dread beyond of I know not what darkens me. I shall go forth, I shall traverse the States awhile, but I cannot tell whither or how long, Perhaps soon some day or night while I am singing my voice will suddenly cease. O book, O chants! must all then amount to but this? Must we barely arrive at this beginning of us? --and yet it is enough."

She was quiet a moment, before softly asking, "Who wrote that?"

"Why Scarlett, you are growing up, just a few years ago you wouldn't have heard a word I said nor cared about who penned it."

"It's the last two lines, must we barely arrive at this beginning of us and yet it is enough. We really have just arrived at the beginning of us."

"And now that we have, is it enough?"

"Yes. We'll tell Henry that we want to sell." Her expression clouded. "Oh, or not Henry. Poor thing, he'll have enough on his plate."

"We'll sort it out. You really are sure about selling?"

"I don't want to ever spend another night under that roof again."

Squeezing her hand, he leaned forward, kissing her briefly. From across the way boisterous laughter rang out. Scarlett glanced up to find her son and Beau watching her. Beau was giggling at their show of affection while Wade was rolling his eyes, doing his utmost best to look mortified.

Pushing him away, she laughed softly. "Rhett Butler, really, shows of affection in public, what next," Scarlett teased.

His voice was low as he leaned forward. "A show of affection in private I hope."

She turned pink immediately. "Captain Butler, you do talk scandalous."

"Wait until later when I get you alone," he promised her with a smirk.

She smiled sweetly, as if she hadn't heard the implication of seduction in his voice. "Fiddle dee dee, how you do run on." Her smile faded. "What did you and Ashley talk about while I was sleeping?"

He answered immediately. "How the growing strength of the British pound would most likely affect trade in coming years."

Her lips twisted into a wry smile. "Did you talk about me the whole time I was asleep?"

"Not the whole time, no."

"Anything interesting?"

"Depends on what you consider interesting?"

Smirking smugly, she tilted her chin. "Anything having to do with me, of course."

"Then yes, by that estimation, it was all interesting."

"You aren't going to tell me, are you?" She pursed her lips in a petulant pout before giggling lightly. "Was it my imagination or did you call Ashley a possum while I was sleeping?"

"He's more weasel than possum, but no, I didn't call him a possum." Rhett's expression turned somber. Scarlett, sensing the change in his mood, reached out a slim hand, resting it lightly on his sleeve. Before her, he sat rigid and unflinching, a blank look in his dark eyes.

"Rhett, what is it? Please, tell me?" For the first time since meeting him that day at Twelve Oaks, she felt as if she were thoroughly acquainted with him and his difficult to chart moods. There was something he was holding back from her, something of grave importance. "Don't keep things from me, what ever it is, just tell me."

Outside the train windows, Atlanta rapidly approached. He would wait; wait until they were alone at the hotel, away from the prying eyes and curious ears of others. He was loath to disclose to her the rumor that would greet them upon their return to Atlanta.

Lightly flicking the fringe that hung from her cuirass jacket, he took her hand in his. Removing her kid glove, he lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the skin just above her wedding ring, his ring. "Remember that I love you. No matter how grim things may become, you'll remember, won't you?"

Her green eyes darkened, "You're speaking in riddles." Concern spread across her face, "Did Ashley say something to…what did he say to you?"

"Never mind what Ashley said. I'm telling you, strictly because I want you to keep it in your mind, I love you. No one is going to hurt you and if they do, tell me instead of stoically trying to pretend you don't care."

She reached out, cradling his cheek with her bare hand. "You're worrying me."

"I don't mean to."

"It's bad isn't it, whatever it is he told you."

Looking through the window at Wade and Ashley in the next compartment, noting the vague familiar resemblance between the Wilkes' and his stepson, Rhett nodded briefly. "Yes.'

"Just tell me, my stomach is in a knot."

"Trust me?"

Some of the worry faded. "Never."

He grinned. "That's my girl. But just now, I'm asking you to trust me. I'll tell you everything once we are behind closed doors, alright?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"I know, it's not alright, but I promise you, I'm going to make it alright."

The train jerked short on its approach to the station, pitching her forward into his arms. Holding her tightly, far more securely than what was permissible in public, he looked over her head toward his stepson and Ashley Wilkes.

The sooner he found a way to stop India Wilkes' poisonous tongue, the better.


	144. Chapter 144

I am here to apologize for my long silence. I had a personal tragedy about two months ago and I've been slowly trying to put back the pieces. Its been hard to get up every morning, let alone write, so as a result nothing has been posted.

I am asking those of you who've stuck with me this long to be patient for just a little while longer. I am trying to put together a chapter, I think writing again with help me return to something like normalcy. Its just been very hard and I am still trying to make sense of the world around me. I am trying, every day, I am trying.

Thank you all for your continued interest and support.


	145. Arrivals

**Hi. Remember me? Anyone?**

**So it isn't the longest chapter or the best chapter I've ever written but its a start of getting back to the business of finishing this story. I've been gone a very long time but I hope there are still some people who will be glad to see this story start updating again. Things got bad, then really bad and then reached their worst and for a while real life had to come first.**

**Thank you for the reviews and well wishes over the last 7 months, I needed them more than any of you will ever know.**

Looking out across the bustling station, Scarlett winced painfully. The sprawling city of present day was no longer the bustling town of her young widowhood. Razed nearly to the ground during the war, Atlanta had grown to overwhelming proportions. Like the mythical bird that burned and rejuvenated itself, the city had emerged from the ashes of its destruction.

Once, when she was young and imprisoned in the chains of false mourning, she'd been invigorated by the hustle and bustle of wartime Atlanta. Now, Atlanta seemed to be draining her strength before she even stepped off the train. Falling asleep on the train had been a mistake. She must have been at an awkward angle because now she could feel every sore muscle cry out in protest as she gingerly began down the steps leading to the platform from the railroad car.

Descending ahead of her, his pace swift and sure, Rhett stepped down and before she could murmur a word in protest, he reached out and caught het around the waist. At her sudden intake of breath, he smiled. His large hands still spanned her trim waist as effortlessly as they had the first time he'd taken her in his arms the evening of the Atlanta Bazaar.

A light flush colored her cheeks. She was certain that if she looked around people were watching them. It seemed that in life she and Rhett were destined to be a spectacle. In his dark eyes she could see a wealth of support and approbation. Noting her studying him, he winked clandestinely, summoning a faint smile to her lips.

Lightly, he set her on her feet. Knowing her abhorrence of being seen walking with a cane, he took it from her. Taking her arm, he made sure she was adequately supported before smiling wryly. "Well, here we are once more; welcome home Mrs. Butler."

She could hear a trace of derision in his voice. For him, Atlanta had never truly been home. During the war years and before their marriage he stayed in hotel rooms and after they were married she made him live in a house that looked like a hotel. The Atlanta house really was a horror. It had taken her several years and her recent exposure to Charleston to see what should have been obvious from the beginning.

Rhett's home, she'd come to understand, was wherever she and the children were. As complex as Rhett Butler was, that was the one simple truth to an otherwise completely complicated man.

As long as he was with his family, he could make a home.

For herself, she no longer could say for certain just where home was.

Tara was no longer home. She would fight with the last breath in her body for Tara. That hadn't changed. A unified Tara was still her dearest wish. She w never, could never let go of the dream that one day Tara would be made whole again. It would be easier for her to stop breathing than hoping. One day…

One day she would give Wade the deed to Tara. She had enough money to help him transform it into a working plantation again. While she respected Will's efforts, Tara was at present no more than a small farm surrounded by swiftly encroaching scrub oak and pine.

Atlanta was also lost to her. Melly was gone. Pitty was now gone as well. The only person who was left was Ashley…she frowned slightly. Ashley was a complication. Because he was Beau's father she would always have some association with him, but she knew that if Ashley fell off the face of the earth tomorrow, his absence would scarcely touch her life in Charleston.

Her life in Charleston.

As inconceivable as it would have seemed to the seventeen year old Scarlett who once visited Charleston and found it to be dry and dull, she now found that against all odds, against all expectations, she had a life in Charleston.

She was coming to love Charleston just as Sally Brewton warned her she would. Charleston won her heart and soul with its lingering reminders of a world she'd thought gone with the brutal passage of time and war. Graceful and seemingly eternal in the face of what should have been its ruin, Charleston was comforting to her soul and soothing to her bruised pride in a way she could have never imagined.

Where once Tara refreshed and renewed her sprits, it was now Charleston serving that purpose.

At last she could understand what Rhett was seeking when he'd left her to return to Charleston. At the time she was so obsessed by the fact that he was running away from her she never stopped to consider what he could be running toward.

He was running toward acceptance, toward roots that ran deep and ties that spanned decades. In Charleston, she was loved and that love, that unflinching love she received from Rosemary, from Miss Eleanor and Sally, and even Julia Ashley's whose sharp opinions and begrudging advice came from love; they all made her feel accepted. They made her feel loved without ulterior motive, without any one particular reason, they loved her.

They were amazing women and they accepted and loved her just as she was.

Yes, she was already yearning Charleston and they'd only been gone a few hours. Whether Charleston was forever, she couldn't force herself toward further examination. Not now. Not with Pitty's last arrangements to consider.

"Scarlett?" Rhett's dark eyes were penetrating as he studied her intently.

She gestured broadly, encompassing the whole town in that one, small gesture. "This hardly feels like home anymore. To be honest, a quick hello and then an even quicker goodbye would suit me down to the ground," she replied, wincing slightly at the sudden roaring of trains arriving around them in the depot.

"Take heart love, we'll be going home soon enough," he said quietly in a voice meant for her only.

"Home." She smiled, her eyes becoming soft and distant, the rest of the world fading away until they were the only two occupying it. "We'll be going home," she repeated softly, "I like the sound of that."

He touched the tips of his fingers to her cheek. "Just remember, I will be here for you, right beside you."

Her smile became wicked. "Really? So the lions are going to be left hungry."

His eyes glittered at her pointed reminder of previous behavior. "My love, I have my chair and whip in hand. Fear not. I am ready to fend off-"

Her expression changed suddenly, silencing his glib comment. Taking a step forward, pulling him with her, she raised her hand in a small wave.

There, across the raised platform outside the station, stood Uncle Peter.

For the first time in their long acquaintance, Uncle Peter looked truly old. He'd always seemed ancient to her youthful gaze but now, for the first time, he looked old. Patiently standing under a black umbrella, his body held painfully erect.

His eyes beneath snow white brows were red rimmed and blood shot. There was not an ounce of extra flesh on his body, he was still as spare as he'd been the first time they'd met, but now his grizzled hair was completely white.

She expected him to falter but with his perpetual air of dignified authority, he came toward them, through the thick red mud, his hat in his hand.

Looking immediately at Wade, he managed a weak smile. "Welcome back to 'lanta Mista Wade. Hallo Mista Beau. Mista' Ashely."

"Hello Uncle Peter," chorused the boys, looking uncertainly at each other. Uncle Peter had been a permanent fixture in both of their lives since they were small. He was the voice of authority under Pitty's roof, his word law. Now, however; he looked as if he were ready to fade away.

Ashley, seeing their apprehension, rested a hand on each of their shoulders. "Hello Uncle Peter. Boys, why don't we see if we can find the baggage?"

"Ashley," said Scarlett, "our luggage isn't going to the Peachtree Street House, we're going to the National."

Hearing Scarlett speak drew Peter's attention. Before she and Rhett could move toward the edge of the platform, Uncle Peter stepped forward, shaking his head. "Cap'n Butler, you gotta wa'ch her," he said with a frown. "She nev'ea pays 'ttention to the weather." Wanting to be certain she understood, he added swiftly, "Miss Scarlett, doan step down in dat mud," he ordered severely.

She laughed suddenly. He looked scandalized at her laughing during such a cheerless time but when she explained the source of her sudden mirth, a reluctant smile bloomed on his lips. "Do you remember when I first came to Atlanta, Uncle Peter? Wade was just a little baby then. I remember, it had been raining for days and it was so muddy that you carried me to the carriage."

"You was as bad as Miss Pitty, always gittin' yer feets wet. I always tell Miss Pitty to hol' on and wait for me to-." The smile was gone now, replaced with tears glittering in his rheumy eyes. "Ole Miss is gone now. They's all gone now. Wha' I gonna do Miss Scarlett, withou' Miss Pitty to look af'a."

"Oh Peter," Scarlett murmured sympathetically. Reaching into her reticule, she found a handkerchief and handed it to him.

Wiping his eyes, Uncle Peter looked up at them, embarrassed by his show of weakness. "Miss Scarlett, I don' like you seeing me in a state but I can' help it. I looked af'a the colonel when he fout in Mexico. I looked af'a Mista Charlie and Miss Melly. Miss Pitty came to live wit us and I took care a'her. I looks af'r you when you's was wid'ed. I looked af'a Mista' Charles and Miss Melanie's boys. Now, no one's lef'. Who I gonna look af'a now," his lower lip beginning to protrude, Uncle Peter looked away. "Tain't no one lef' for me to mind now."

Glancing at Rhett, she implored him silently with her eyes. It was their duty to offer Peter a place. He was a part of the family and if looking after India and Ashley didn't suit him, why then surely they could find a place for him in Charleston. The new house was huge and with her still feeling low they could use all the help they could get. Having Peter with them would be better than a stranger.

Giving her a barely discernable nod, Rhett addressed Uncle Peter. "Peter, after everything is finished, I'd like to speak with you. Miss Scarlett and I have just bought a house in Charleston. We'll need someone to manage the household staff. Miss Scarlett still isn't completely well and with my businesses taking me abroad sometimes, I'd like to know that she has someone she could trust to look after things. Someone that we could both trust. I know it would be a move for you, to come with us to Charleston, so I would of course compensate you for the bother. I know its sudden and probably not the best time to broach such a thing but I'd appreciate it if you'd give it some consideration."

He looked suspicious. "You mean that? I's getting on in year's Cap'n Butler."

"You are still a competent and capable household manager Peter. If you want a position, I would be glad to have you in my employ."

There was no discernable sympathy in Rhett's swarthy face. His expression was politely bland, as if he were discussing something of little consequence. For Peter, that was enough. He did not want to be left alone, rendered useless by time and infirmity but he did not want pity. "Thank ya sir. I'll conside' it."

Rhett nodded, "You let me know. No need to decide this minute. We'll have time to further discuse this toward the end of the week. But you will consider it?"

"I surely will Cap'n, I surely will."


	146. A lion in the Parlor

**I'm back. I've missed you guys, a lot.**

**So, let me just say, sorry for wandering off. I've been dealing with a lot and it was really hard for me to write for a long time. Hoping to get back to updating a little more regularly. **

**Just like Tinkerbell, if you want to see more, let me hear you clap :D**

**For all the people who have recently started FTE, glad it was such a short wait for a new chapter. For those of you who've been waiting what, six months? Thank you for continuing to read.**

* * *

Standing on the front porch of Pittypat's house, Scarlett's spine was ramrod straight, her body shaking, angry blood staining her cheeks the same color as her given name. Ignoring the lion shaped knocker, she thumped her fist angrily against the door.

"I see you, you whey faced old maid," Scarlett muttered under her breath.

"Temper, temper," chided Rhett softly.

Whipping her head toward him, she glared for a minute before declaring violently, "She's in the hallway; I saw her looking through the curtains while we were coming up the path. I honestly can't believe, at a time like this, she is going to be so pigheaded and selfish."

Rhett shrugged, not in the least bit disconcerted by India's open show of dislike for the Butler family. "Just knock again, either she'll let us in or someone else will."

Biting her lip, she shook her head, anger flickering in her dark green eyes. Her pretty face was hardened as she tried to remain emotionless. "Isn't that just like you, taking the sensible approach," replied Scarlett tartly.

"It is a shortcoming," he acknowledged diffidently.

"I just hate knowing she is in there, puffed up like a partridge, thinking that she's gotten the better of me."

"Let her think whatever she wants Scarlett, it doesn't make it so."

With Rhett's hand lightly resting in the small of her back, Scarlett raised a gloved fist to rap sharply on Pitty's front door. "You might as well just open the door India Wilkes; I know you're lurking in there. If you don't open this door, I'll just keep knocking until-

The door opened before her second barrage could fall.

For a long moment, the two lifelong adversaries sized one another up. Scarlett was clearly the winner. She stood before India, a confident still young matriarch flanked by her handsome husband and son. She stood in direct contrast to the pinch faced old maid spinster that India had become.

It was clear that India had no hope now of ever becoming a wife and mother. She was like so many other women in the south, a living causality of the war. After the war, there were so few men left in the south that those who were looking for wives could take their pick. A woman like India, sharp tongued, plain of face, and cantankerous in spirit hadn't a chance.

India seethed in silence. How was it fair? She had nothing while Scarlett, Scarlett had everything. She wanted to lash out, to put the whore who'd caused so much trouble in her place but conventions had to be observed.

"Scarlett, you needn't have come. I have everything well in hand. You can be sure that I will give your regards to the family," said India swiftly before she closed the front door. But, before it shut, Scarlett stuck her cane in the doorway. Glancing up from under her lashes at Rhett, Scarlett subtly inclined her head toward the door.

"Rhett, if you please," asked Scarlett sweetly.

Pushing the door open gently, Rhett bowed his head. "Miss Wilkes, my condolences on your family's loss. Miss Hamilton will be greatly missed."

Seeing she was outmaneuvered India stepped to one side, allowing the Butlers and Wade entrance.

"India," purred Scarlett sweetly, "you're looking-"she hesitated, pointedly, "well."

Though her voice was sweet, Scarlett's thoughts were poisonous. This dowdy, black clad, witch who'd caused so much trouble for everyone Scarlett cared about was now clearly trying to set herself up as Aunt Pitty's chief mourner. It was enough to make her blood boil.

"I wish I could say the same for you Scarlett," returned India blandly, "You look rather peaked. Ashley told me you had an accident not too long ago. You shouldn't have come when you are still so obviously unwell."

"Oh, but India, how could I stay away when my family," Scarlett emphasized family pointedly, "needed me so badly?" Her expression became sympathetic. "India, when I think of you, dealing with all of this… I could just cry. You poor thing, how have you been able to stand it? Although, looking as you do, you've only just been barely able to. Really, putting on such a brave face when I'm sure the arrangements are just too much for you." Her green eyes sparkled, reminding Rhett of a cat toying with a mouse. "Don't you worry, I'm here now. You just stand back, I'll take care of whatever needs to be done. I won't take no for an answer."

India's wan face flushed angrily. "You—I don't—just stay out of my way, and out of my brother's way, do you understand me?"

"Of course I understand you India. If you like, I can receive while you go upstairs and change. I know you must be embarrassed that we caught you before you were done getting ready." She made a small shooing motion with her hand. "Go on, don't you worry one little bit about us. It's so nice to be here again. After all, this house was my home for such a long time."

Letting out an unladylike grunt, India spun on heel and stormed off leaving the three in the front hall.

"It would appear Miss Wilkes has missed you dreadfully," observed Rhett, taking Scarlett's wrap.

"Not half as much as I missed her," replied Scarlett, her dimples deepening as she smiled.

Wade frowned, the implied sarcasm of his parent's conversation going over his still naïve head. "Mother, I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I don't think she missed you at all."

Smothering inappropriate giggles, Scarlett reached out and brushed Wade's hair from his brow. "You are sometimes entirely too serious young man."

Wade shrugged defensively. "May I go and find Beau mother?"

"Of course sweetheart, oh and if you see Uncle Ashley, tell him we are here."

"My love," said Rhett, "I'm sure once he sees Wade, Mr. Wilkes will deduce we've arrived."

"True."

Rhett waited until Wade was out of earshot before speaking again. "I forget sometimes."

"Forget what?"

"Watching you take India to pieces with that simpering southern belle routine, I forget how poisonous you can sometimes be."

Her lips pursed together, anger flooding back into her gaze, "Well thank you so much. I don't think so but -"

He held up his hands, mockingly warding off her anger. "It isn't a criticism; it's just been a long time since I've seen that side of you. In Charleston, you are so gracious and sweet. One would think that butter wouldn't melt in your mouth but I admit, watching you rile India up like that, I enjoyed it considerably." His eyes traced over the lines of her body. Under his intent gaze, her anger dissipated. Flushing, she turned away.

"Then I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed." She gestured toward the double doors leading to the parlor. "I need to be on my best behavior in there, for Wade and Ella's sake. It's terrible isn't it, when you realize that you have to put other people's needs first."

Reaching out, he cupped her cheek lightly. "How old were you when you realized that; eighteen, nineteen?"

"I don't mean their physical or financial needs; I mean the need to be a good person who is welcomed in good homes. No doubt some of the old guard knows that I've been worming my way into Charleston's good graces. They are going to be doubly suspicious of anything I say or do." She considered her words carefully, not wanting to wound him, but needing to be candid she continued. "They'll all know you left me. They saw how I was, after. They know that I went to you and none of them are sure of the outcome of that. They'll be watching, waiting for one of us to say or do something they can condemn me for."

"Scarlett, I'm so sor-"

"No." her voice caught, "Don't. You aren't sorry. I know you aren't. You needed to get away, from all of this. How could we be here, now, the way we are if you hadn't left? We were tearing each other apart."

"When did you become so wise?"

"The morning I knew that I had had more than I'd ever realized."

Curiosity made him ask. "When was that?"

A tear escaped despite her determination not to cry. "The morning we buried Melly."

"Company manners it is, for both of us."

She smiled. "I hated company manners as a child."

"And as an adult."

"And as an adult," she agreed with a faint smile.

He bowed, "This way to the lions, my dear."

Walking into the parlor, a wave of great sadness passed over Scarlett. Sitting in the room, in nearly the same places, were the women who'd organized Melly's funeral.

Taking the lead, Rhett bowed politely to the assembly. "Mrs. Meade, Mrs. Merriwether, Mrs. Bonnell, Mrs. Elsing; a good evening to you all."

Mrs. Merriwether, spokeswoman for them all, inclined her head regally. "Captain Butler, it's good to see you again, despite the circumstances." Drawing a breath, Mrs. Merriwether turned her attention to Scarlett. "Good evening Scarlett."

Mind your manners, thought Scarlett resolutely. You've done so well in Charleston, but if you want the children to have a smooth path in the future, than what you say to these women in the present is incredibly important. The women in Charleston are invaluable to the children's futures but these women are important too. "Good evening ladies."

"Ashley said you'd been unwell Scarlett," said Mrs. Elsing in her soft, pretty drawling voice. Taking note of the cane, she frowned. "Are you still not well?"

"Scarlett," scolded Mrs. Meade lightly, not exactly pleased to see Scarlett, but still ever inch the physician's wife, "surely you know Pitty would have understood. Your health should come first.

It was hard to tell if they were sincere. They sounded sincere but it was so hard for her to accept what sounded like sympathy. She did not want their pity. She wanted to deny she was at anything but her best, nearly denied that she was still not feeling well, but then, cool rationality washed over her.

If she could turn them to her side, or at least turn them from being against her, wouldn't India just steam in her own skin, like a sausage on a spit. "How could I not come," she asked, neatly sidestepping her injury while emphasizing the fact that it had been a hardship for her to make the journey from Charleston to Atlanta. "I had to come. I needed to bring Wade. He loved her so. He needed to be able to say goodbye."

Mrs. Meade shook her gray head. "Captain Butler should have brought Wade." Everyone has a weak spot, for Mrs. Meade it was those in need of care. Scarlett, though lovely, looked fragile; much like the young widow Pittypat had taken to home, heart, and hearth over a decade before. "Really," she continued, "you should have told her to stay put in Charleston."

He shrugged, "Madame, I am not a coward but…," he lifted his hands in an airy gesture.

"Really, what is wrong with men? The dear Doctor aside, none of you have a lick of common sense. Captain Butler, its plain to see the girl is exhausted. Scarlett, come sit by me." She gestured to the empty space next to her on the settee.

Solicitously, Rhett assisted Scarlett, helping her to the settee. Every set of eyes in the room were focused on the Butlers. They seemed so in accord, so completely different from the bickering, angry pair they'd once been.

Satisfied that she was comfortable, Rhett bowed a second time. "Ladies, if you'll excuse me. I want to make certain that Wade has found Beau." He smiled, "Boys, much like men are very short on common sense. I just want to see to it that they are behaving themselves."

"They're both very well behaved boys Captain Butler," commented Mrs. Merriwether.

"You'll receive no argument from me on that front Mrs. Merriwether." Rhett agreed, the proud parent from the tips of his shiny black shoes to his winning smile.

"Are the children enjoying Charleston, Captain Butler?" Mrs. Elsing asked politely.

"Very much, it's been such a joy for my mother and sister, to have children in the house. My mother is quite enjoying herself; she gets to be the doting grandmother."

The women nodded. Mrs. Meade smiled faintly. "She's very lucky to have the children there. I miss having children in the house." Mrs. Bonnell squeezed her hand lightly. "Tell her to spoil them rotten. It'll be good for all of them."

Rhett smiled, again bowing to the room. "Ladies." Closing the double doors behind him, Rhett allowed himself a smile. Scarlett, the darling of Charleston, seemed ready to try her hand at charming the old dragons of Atlanta.

"Scarlett, tell us, how have you been enjoying Charleston," asked Mrs. Bonnell courteously.

"Its very nice, thank you," replied Scarlett. "We've been so busy. I'd been meaning to come back to Atlanta, but we, Rhett and I, have been restoring his family's plantation. I suppose I never considered that Pitty might—" she trailed off, lowering her head slightly as if she were embarrassed at revealing too much of herself.

Mrs. Merriwether studied Scarlett as though she could deduce whether Scarlett was sincere in her grief. "She was so genuinely likable. I don't recall anyone ever having a harsh or unkind word to say about her."

"What could one say about Pitty except that she was a truly good person," replied Scarlett. "How is Uncle Henry?"

"Taking this hard of course," said Mrs. Bonnell. "It was good of you to come and bring Wade. Henry will be glad to see the boy."

"Wade will be happy to see him too."

"Will you be staying long?"

Scarlett shook her head. "No, we've left Ella with Rhett's mother so we were planning on leaving by the end of the week."

A rustle caught Scarlett's attention. India was standing in the doorway to the library, watching them talk, a small frown on her pursed lips.

Trust India to look even dowdier than usual, thought Scarlett scornfully. Just because they were in mourning didn't mean that it was acceptable to completely disregard the dictates of current modes and fashions.

Her dress was obviously old, thought Scarlett as she took stock of India's appearance. It was old for India, in a deliberate attempt to show her feelings about Melly, had never left off deep mourning for her late sister in law. By now, she should have been back in regular clothing or if she still felt so strongly, mauve, dove grays, or other dark colors.

In private, many of the old guard felt India's deliberate display of mourning was crass. Like it or not, everyone knew that Melly passed on leaving Scarlett in full possession of her heart and charged her with the care of her small family.

Like it or not, Melanie Hamilton Wilkes died still furious at India's sullying of Scarlett's reputation. Melly certainly wouldn't have wanted India to continue on in mourning for her. In truth, she might not have wanted her to mourn for her at all.

Whom ever Melly loved, she'd loved with every fiber of her being but, when that gentle soul was moved to anger, she formed grudges she would and could never release.

"I'd heard that you would be returning to Atlanta Scarlett, that isn't true," asked India.

Scarlett lifted her green eyes, her face composed and lovely in the golden light of the late afternoon sun. "No. That isn't true. Rhett and I are planning on staying in Charleston for the time being."

"Really?" India advanced into the room, ignoring the warning looks she was receiving from the other women. "I'd heard that Captain Butler was sending you back to Atlanta. Strange how rumors get started, isn't it?"

"Strange," agreed Scarlett with a tense smile. Her letters to Ashley. She'd written to Ashley while she'd been in Charleston. In need of someone to confide in, she'd told him everything. From the look of triumph in her eyes, it seemed likely that India had read those letters.

"It was nice of you to come home for Aunt Pitty's funeral," offered India in a sickly sweet nursery tone.

She felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. A torrent of acid prepared itself to rain from her lips but she reined it back. For her to embarrass herself, a total loss of control, that would gratify India beyond comprehension. "It wasn't the least bit nice. I came because I cared for her. She's Wade's great aunt and she raised Charles."

"It's funny you claim to care so much for Pitty when you seemed to care so little for her nephew…and great nephew."

"India!" moaned Mrs. Bonnell. "For heaven sake, don't. Not at a time like this."

"Don't what? I was just stating a fact, I'm sure I didn't mean to offend. I'm sure no one in this room, least of all Scarlett forgets how quickly any pretense of mourning for Charles was dropped."

Scarlett's face tightened as her jaw clenched, the only visible sign of her mounting fury. "Careful India, you're going to cut off your own nose to spite your face, really it isn't a very attractive face to begin with."

"Why are you here? We all know full well you didn't care for Pitty or anyone else in this family. Well…that's not quite true, you care for Ash-"

"India, "roared Mrs. Merriwether, "you will not start a quarrel with Pitty in the next room, do you hear me?"

India rounded on Mrs. Merriwether. "Has everyone gone mad? Have you all forgotten who this woman is? "

Mrs. Meade shook her head. "She's the woman that Pitty wanted to give her eulogy. If that doesn't say something, I don't know what does."

Jarred by Mrs. Meade's words, Scarlett turned her attention from India to Mrs. Meade. "What? Aunt Pitty wanted me to speak?"

"She did," said Mrs. Merriwether. "She left Henry Hamilton a note about it."

"She had to be out of her right mind, how else could Pitty be so addlebrained as to ask you of all people to speak at her funeral? It's disgusting to think that we'll all have to sit there and listen to a white trashy whore like you speak at length about anyone decent."

Before she could stop herself, Scarlett's temper snapped. "Oh, go to hell India."

"Me, go to hell? I doubt it."

"Really? You doubt that there isn't a place for you in hell? After all the nastiness that you can personally lay claim to starting in the lives of the people you claim to care about? You think that God is just going to overlook all of that? You are a terrible person, India Wilkes. God isn't likely to ignore that.

"At least I'm not a whore who chased after my own brother in law."

Several gasps sounded around the room. Then, from the doorway came a young, but firm voice. "I don't think you should say another word about my mother or you'll regret it."

Turning, India found Wade Hampton standing in the doorway. Too far taken by her own sense of rage and injustice, she dismissed the boy with a shrug. "Mind your manners young man, if she taught you any to mind."

Scarlett rose; slightly unsteady on her feet, she stared down India. "Melly had just as much, more in fact to do with bringing up Wade, he has impeccable manners. That's more then can be said about you."

"Don't blame poor Melly for your brat's lack of manners," snapped India.

"He is not a brat."

"He can't help but interrupt his elders? He doesn't know his place. Sorry to burst your bubble, but he is a low breed common brat. Who'd think that he has an ounce of Hamilton blood in him?"

"Stop speaking about me that way, please," said Wade. "I can guarantee you, if you don't stop, I will make you regret it."

India turned back to Wade. "How dare you, you vicious little monster. Just who do you think you are to threaten me?"

"I am the owner of the house you reside in madame," replied Wade, his voice sharp and crisp. So alike did they sound that, for an instant, Scarlett thought it was Rhett who'd spoken. "Pray remember that when you next address my mother. I wouldn't like to have to turn you out, but I won't have anyone speak to mother as you just di—"

It was over before it began. India's arm swung up with the full intention of landing a stinging blow to Wade's face but before her hand could connect with Wade's face, India was nearly jerked off her feet.

In height or physical strength, there was no comparison. India was a good three inches taller and 20 pounds heavier than Scarlett but, India's unprovoked act of violence kindled in Scarlett a fire that consumed sanity and decorum completely. Tightening her hand around India's wrist, she jerked her back, nearly knocking them both off their feet. Her cane struck India's shin, drawing a howl of pain from her.

"Turn me loose," cried India as she tried to wrench her arm free. "If you don't, I'll…" Looking into Scarlett's blazing green eyes, India's courage failed her.

With her dark, thick hair tumbled from its pins and the angry blood staining her cheeks, Scarlett was beautiful. She was one of those women who came alive when experiencing deep emotional turmoil. Rhett had told her once that he found her most beautiful in the midst of anger.

Now though, Scarlett was beyond caring about what anyone thought of her. All she could see was that her child, her first born son who'd been the darling of everyone who once lived in Pitty's house had been slandered and physically attacked. Later, the women who'd been present would comment that they hadn't known Scarlett posed that streak of mother lion intensity.

"You'll what, you spiteful witch? Slap me? Go on, I won't try and stop you. But, I tell you this, enjoy that slap because after it falls, I will beat seven kinds of holy hell out of you."

There was a soft chuckle from the doorway to the parlor. Looking up, Scarlett found Rhett and Ashley standing with Henry Hamilton. Their three facial expressions couldn't have been more different. Rhett's amused and intrigued, Ashley looking horrified and deeply embarrassed and then Henry…Henry looked as if he were sick.

"Girls," Henry's voice was strained, "girls, please. Scarlett, let her go."

Reluctantly, Scarlett released India who immediately fled to Henry's side. "How dare you put your trashy hands on me Scarlett O'Hara." Her mud brown eyes fell on Wade who'd come to stand next to his mother. "I can only say its better that your mother and his father aren't here to see how horribly the two of you turned out."

An inarticulate noise came from Scarlett, but before she could speak, Wade laid a gentle hand on his mother's arm. Swallowing her rage, she allowed her son to speak. His voice was low, but firm. "India Wilkes," he said, using her given name to emphasis the importance of what he was about to say, "you have until the first of the month, and then I want you out of this house. I don't want to have to involve the sheriff but I will, if I have to."

"This is my home, you can't just turn me out," sputtered India.

Wade's normally soft brown eyes were fixed on India. There was neither pity nor understanding in his clear, intent gaze. "It was Aunt Pitty's home. As long as she was alive, neither mother nor I would have ever dared to presume to tell her who she could and couldn't have as a guest but, I told you what would happen if you insulted my mother again."

"Henry." India turned to Henry, "Surely he can't do this; he's just a boy…"

Henry shook his head. In truth, he was heartsick. His sister was gone and just when he finally had his nephew back, India was creating trouble. He was weary of India and the turmoil she'd repeatedly caused over the years. "It's his property, so long as his executor agrees; he can do whatever he likes."

"But you can't agree," pleaded India.

"What I agree or don't agree to is of no consequence, I'm not the executor. Scarlett is."

Mute with horror, India turned her gaze back to Scarlett and Wade. Mother and son stood quietly side by side, regarding her with identical cool gazes.

"I do believe I'm going to go outside for a breath of fresh air," said Scarlett, "if you all will excuse me." She turned to Wade and offered him her arm. "Sir, if you'd be so kind as to escort me?"

Taking her arm, he gave a smile, conveying to her more with that one simple smile than he could ever find words. His smile told her that he loved her deeply, that she was his hero, his champion and his role model when it came to what it meant to be strong and fearless.

"I would be honored."


	147. From humble starts come great things

**Another chapter? Already? And it didn't take like 6 months? Amazing.**

**Oh, on a side note, a certain fanfic has an anniversary coming up very soon so I suppose I owe one more chapter this month lol.**

**Thank you to Dani for the reminder...**

Sitting on Aunt Pitty's porch swing, Scarlett shivered slightly. She suddenly hated Atlanta. She hated it violently. She hated the chill in the air. She hated the small minded people that inhabited it. She hated the yawning monster that awaited her, a monster she'd once thought of as the most elegant house in all of Atlanta. It sat just down the block, seemingly ready to consume her fragile new start.

She knew that she would have to walk through the house at least one more time. Never turning her back on a fight, how could she let a pile of stone, lumber, and paint better her. She couldn't. Facing ghosts of the past, that was what this visit was becoming.

Through the hedge growth at the back of Pitty's yard was the little house the Wilkes had lived in. What had Ashley done with Melly's things, wondered Scarlett? Given them away? Packed them away? Perhaps India…

The picture of India rifling through Melly's belongings only served to make her angrier so she turned away from that thought.

A half hearted smile came to her lips. The real reason she hated Atlanta was because she knew that the rain was coming. March was such a dreary month in Atlanta. Traditionally the rainy month, it was a foregone conclusion that if it felt like rain, then it would rain. Tomorrow she would be standing ankle deep in thick red clay trying to suppress the urge to fling India into Pitty's grave.

That thought brought another smile. She could almost seem herself, arms out thrust, shoving India down into that gaping hole.

But, too soon, her mirth subsided. No matter what, they were stuck in Atlanta for a few more days. Her stomach tensed. She felt it then, a painful, near physical longing to be back in Charleston. Once it would have been Tara but now, now she just wanted to be back with Miss Eleanor.

It was nearly five o'clock. Five o'clock meant visiting in Charleston. Sally Brewton would be holding her at home today as she did every week. She missed Sally's monkey face and bright and easy nature. After they finished their visit, they would stop at the bakery on King Street and pick up sweets for the children. Rosemary would steal a cookie from the brown paper bag and Eleanor would scold her for eating in public. Then, once everyone was together, they would all sit down to dinner.

Wade and Rosemary were currently reading the same book, something Rhett had suggested. They'd often discus it during dinner with Rhett offering his own opinions. Eleanor would talk about some of the furniture that had once been at the Landing and how maybe in the fall she and Scarlett would take a trip to see if they could find similar items. And Ella…Ella would chatter on about everything and nothing at all.

The little girl who she'd once resented when she remembered her existence and ignored the rest of the time had become so important to her, so a part of her daily life that she found herself worrying about how her daughter was dealing with their separation.

Ella would be missing them already. Leaving her behind seemed the right thing to do but now she found herself wishing the little girl was with them. Never the most affectionate of mothers, even Scarlett could see the humor in wanting Ella now. She wanted to hold the little girl and see the complete approval in her hazel eyes. She wanted to dress Ella's hair and then play ball in the yard with her and Toby.

The wind picked up, stirring her skirts. Yes, undoubtedly, it was going to rain. If it managed to hold off long enough for them to get back to the hotel, it would be a minor miracle. She hated the rain, knowing that thunder and lightning would likely follow. Tonight, she would not sleep. The storm outside and the one in her breast would keep her awake long after everyone else was settled.

A long restless night before her, she turned her attention to Pitty once more. She hated funerals and all that accompanied them. And then, there was something that bothered her immensely.

Try as she might, she could not find it in herself to say a prayer for Pittypat. It wasn't that she didn't want to; nothing could have been further from the truth but, much as she wanted to pray for the good old woman, she couldn't.

Try as she might, she couldn't find the words.

Scarlett's heart ached. The comfort she'd once found in prayer made a brief return when she'd thought she was carrying a child but since the morning her courses started, she could no longer find the words or inclination to speak to God.

God, my God, why have you forsaken me? When Ellen would read to them about Jesus' time on the cross, that phrase used to make her shiver. Even now, as a grown woman, she could remember thinking that if God could forsaken his own son as he hung in the cruel sun, thirty and dying; what notice would he take of Katie Scarlett O'Hara in her times of need?

No notice whatsoever seemed to be the answer.

She tried to say a prayer for Pittypat. Still, the words would not come. Once, she would have thought that the inability to pray was a mortal sin but now, now she could no longer bring herself to care. Since the morning after she'd been made a wife for the first time, she'd felt as if her bond with God was severed. If there were a God, she remembered reasoning at the tender age of sixteen, he wouldn't have allowed her body being degraded and violated to be called a sacrament.

Swallowing around the lump forming in her throat, she pushed thoughts of that night away. If she allowed herself to think on that night, she would lose hold on her emotions.

Through the war, she'd prayed for various things but they were prayers born out of habit and not any true expectation of divine intervention

Thinking about God and her lost faith made her think of the long ago night when she'd sat on this very same porch missing Tara and worrying about her family's safety. The yellow climbing roses and honeysuckle were still months away from blooming. Their gentle fragrance existed in her memory and in an unconscious effort to capture their scent she breathed in deeply.

The scent of cigars and cologne made her smile. The swing moved slightly and she looked up to find Rhett's hand resting on the chain. Moving the swing gently, Rhett gave her a tender look. "Sweetheart, come inside, it's chilly out here."

"Playing nursemaid doesn't particularly suit you Rhett," she said, her voice sharper than she intended.

He smiled slightly, not affected by her tone. "Most women would be moved by my show of husbandly devotion."

Her chin lifted. "I'm not most women."

"No," he agreed his smile becoming smug and faintly possessive, "you certainly aren't."

Plucking a stay thread from her basque, she frowned fiercely. "Do you believe the nerve of India Wilkes? It's no secret she hates me. I hate her too but really, speaking to me like that in what essentially is my house? How dare she?"

The smile vanished instantly, his features becoming hard and unreadable. "Don't you mean yours and Ashley Wilkes?"

She looked up, startled by the sharpness of his tone. "What do you mean?"

"Surely you, who know her holdings down to the last nail, knows what I mean. You own half of this house as the late Mr. Hamilton's widow just as Ashley owns half as Miss Melly's widower."

Confusion was plain on her face. Shaking her head, she self-consciously tugged one of her earbobs. He was remote, a stranger now, just like he'd been to her through much of their married life. "And because of that you're angry, with me?"

A sardonic grin settled on his lips. "Not specifically with you, more at the universe and its incongruous sense of humor than anyone else."

"I don't understand."

"Don't you? My wife and Ashley Wilkes now own a home together."

Suddenly, she understood. A hot rush of blood colored her cheeks. "It's just until the boys are of age, then I'll turn my share over to Wade as part of his Hamilton inheritance."

"And in the interim? Your name and his, both of you listed on the deed to this house?" He raked his hand through his hair, turning his back on her; he walked to the porch rail. "My wife and Ashley Wilkes, owning a home together, to be frank, is something out of one of my worst nightmares."

"You are being ridiculous."

"I'm trying to be rational about this Scarlett, but I'll be honest, I'm failing miserably."

"You act as though I intend on moving in here with him. I was married to Charles; this was his parent's house, as his widow, I own half of it. You've known this for years, why does it matter now?" He did not acknowledge her. "Rhett? Please, don't, not now. Please."

He turned, regarding her silently. Her cat eyes shimmered with unshed tears. She was a beautiful woman but in her sadness, she was even more beautiful. She was pale, tired no doubt from their long journey, but her pallor served to accentuate the redness of her lips and the deep jade of her eyes. The profound pain suffusing her expression swayed him, he went to her.

He sat down beside her, the chains creaking heavily under his weight. Withdrawing his cigar case, he tilted it toward her, a silent inquiry. She shook her head, giving consent. Lighting the cigar, he said softly, "I've just spent one of the longest days of my life; I think I deserve one of these, don't you?"

"Today? I'll grant you it's been a bit hectic but –"

"You were right, what you said to me before you went into the parlor. Everyone who's been through here was watching you to see if you were looking for Ashley and vice versa. And, for a bit of added entertainment, I fell under scrutiny. Now they are wondering, am I here with you out of pity, obligation, or a sense of duty? None of the old guard knows for sure."

"Since when have you cared what anyone thinks?"

He laughed softly. It was not a pleasant laugh. They were entering dangerous ground, and she knew it. "Scarlett, I am loath to admit it, but in the last year, I've come to enjoy the esteem and good opinion of my neighbors and acquaintances. Being here, it brings it all back."

Shyly, as if by its own volition, her hand crept toward his. Taking it firmly, she squeezed it. "I'm sorry."

He squeezed it back. "Don't be."

"It's no better for me. All the snide remarks, the looks…I'm well aware of what everyone here is thinking, but I owed it to Pitty to be here…and to Wade, and Beau, and Henry.'

"And Ashley?"

She looked at him, their hands still joined. "I hate us having to go over this again, but I will. If only to try and make you see the truth, I'll say this again. I can't ask you to understand, but I promise you, I only look on him as an old friend. He's one of the only people left from my past. I wish to God I had never thought I loved him, but I know better now. I know who I love, who I've loved all along."

He leaned in close, smelling of fragrant tobacco and the clean fresh scent of his shaving soap. Her heart beat a little faster as his lips came close to her ear. "Is it anyone I know?"

"It is," she replied, her voice soft.

"Tell me, who is it?"

"Oh, but I can't," she said smiling warmly, "it's a secret."

He leaned back "Ah, a secret. Well, what if I traded with you, a secret for a secret?"

"It would have to be an amazing secret."

He grinned, "It is."

Smug satisfaction was written on her face. "Is it about who you love?"

"My darling, despite what the narrow minded denizens of this town might think, that's not a secret to anyone with a working pair of eyes."

Her interest piqued, she tilted her head thoughtfully. "Is it a real secret?"

"It is."

"Will you give me a hint?"

"No."

"Mean," she declared severely.

He laughed, this time his laughter was warm and she luxuriated in the sound. "I am, you know that better than anyone."

"Give me a little hint then."

"I'll trade you…a hint for a kiss."

She went crimson; her blush not lost on Rhett. He chuckled softly at his wife's obvious embarrassment. "Hush, do you want them to hear you."

"So what if they do?"

"Rhett Butler, have you forgotten where we are?"

"I haven't. You'll never know how much I wanted to kiss you on this very porch that night during the war, the night I asked you to become my mistress."

She flushed to the roots of her hair at the mention of the word mistress, "Rhett! Please, stop it. What if someone should hear you?"

"They'll think all the better of you knowing that you resisted my amorous advances and, maybe a few of them will secretly think you were smart to hold out until I made you a more honorable proposition."

"You are bad."

"Nonsense," he told her, affecting an air of offended dignity. "Now, we were making a deal?"

Grinning brashly, she shook her head. "We were. One kiss, two hints."

"That hardly seems fair; I thought an even exchange, a hint for a kiss"

"I am offering you an even exchange."

His dark brows drew together. "It doesn't seem even to me. A kiss for a hint, to me, seems fair."

Raising her shoulders, Scarlett shrugged. "To you maybe, but I set my price and it's nonnegotiable. I'll have you know, the Tarleton boys once told me they'd trade their left hands for one of my kisses. A whole hand Rhett, for just one kiss. Really, I'm offering you quite a deal."

"Refresh my memory my dear, how many schools were the Tarleton twins dismissed from? That hardly recommends them in the area of common sense."

"Let's say several, out of respect for the dead and leave it at that." Looking out over the railing, she sniffed the air. "It's going to rain."

"I suspect you're right my dear."

She turned to him, her green eyes soft with love and memories. "Go inside, find Wade. Let's go back to the hotel." She closed her eyes for a heartbeat. "I'm not a very sentimental person, but I don't think I want to go back inside that house. Not now that Pitty's gone. She was a good woman Rhett. I often thought she was silly and she was but I embarrassed her, quite a bit over the years, yet she always treated me well as she could."

"From what Miss Melly said over the years and things Henry told me, you made Charles happy. That must have in turn made Miss Hamilton happy. Charles went to war a contented young man. You saved Melly and Beau during the war, you kept a roof over her head, you gave her Wade."

Scarlett smiled suddenly. "Do you know, she fainted at my wedding?"

"Which one my dear?"

She swatted his arm. "Don't be fresh. When I married Charlie, she swooned halfway through the ceremony. My fath-," her voice caught slightly, but she continued, "you should have heard pa, muttering next to my mother. Faith, he said, this woman has swooned twice since she got here and that was only this morning. Mother told him to hush. At the time, it was a nightmare. I knew I'd made a mistake, a terrible one at that, but it was too late."

She looked out toward the street again. "When the priest got to me, I wanted to scream I don't! I wanted to run, out the front door, down the front drive. Could you imagine, me running away in my mother's satin wedding dress." She shook her head, her earbobs dancing. "It was itchy. Mammy and mother had to take it up and in because we were so different." She flinched. "In so many ways."

"Honey-,"

"Let me say this, please. I never wanted to be a part of this family, at least not the Hamilton part of it," she admitted, albeit a bit reluctantly, " now, finally, after all these years, I feel bad for that, knowing that if given the choice, I wouldn't have said yes. Not to Charlie's proposal, not to the priest on our wedding day. If there had been any honorable way out, I wouldn't be here now."

"But you did say yes, and here you are."

She looked at him, her gaze steady but her eyes were turbulent. "Everything's changing Rhett. I feel like I can't find solid ground. Being here, in Atlanta, I just, I feel nothing. How can that be? This town was my home for years. Now, it feels as if that life was a dream. Everyone I cared for, who cared for me. Melly, Mammy, Pitty; who's next? The next time we come back here, who will I have to say goodbye to? I just feel like a part of my life is closing. All of the people who knew me before the war, they're all disappearing."

"People leave us darling. It's the way of the world. I wish it wasn't so, but it is."

She clutched his arm, catching him off guard; she looked at him, pleading. "Make Uncle Peter come home with us. Please."

"I can't make him Scarlett. I can only ask. What he decides, that's entirely up to him."

"You could convince anyone to do anything, I know you can. He needs to be with us, we'll take care of him. He must feel as I do. He said as much at the station. Everyone he raised, looked after, everyone is gone now."

He lifted her hand to his lips. "I'll speak with him, for now though, let me go and find Wade. It's been a long day…for all of us."

She nodded, lost in her own thoughts.

Hearing the door close behind him, Scarlett allowed herself to slip back in time to examine what had been on her mind since they arrived at Pitty's house, that first afternoon, her arrival in Atlanta.

Everyone had been so welcoming, so glad to have her among them. If only Mrs. Merriwether, Mrs. Bonnell, Mrs. Elsing, and Mrs. Meade had known. She had been so young then, all of seventeen, already saddled with a child and a dead husband. She'd been so young and desolate, feeling heavy with the sure knowledge that life for her had ended with the death of Charles.

Little had she known what her life would bring in the ensuing years.

"Good evening Scarlett."

She started, the swing making a hollow thud as it swung back. "Dr. Meade, hello," she managed, slightly embarrassed.

Stooped a little with age, the good Doctor was still mostly unchanged by the years. His pointed beard of once iron gray was now white as was the hair that remained on his head.

His expression was polite if a little distant. Still, he was a doctor and she had been his patient for years so he asked, "How are you feeling?"

She smiled ruefully. "On the mend, thank you."

"You seem to be in excellent hands in Charleston. The doctor who has been treating you, Doctor Cross? He wrote me not to long ago. We've been corresponding," he smiled, "not about you, not after that first initial inquiry into your past health. He's a very interesting young man to correspond with."

She nodded. "He is a very good doctor."

He looked past her, toward the house. "Did you all come?"

From him, she did not take his inquiry as an attempt to discern gossip. His manner was kindly, as though he'd never previously judged or condemned her for her behavior. She answered with only a little hesitation. "Rhett and Wade, Ella's with my mother in law in Charleston. I didn't want her to have to come here just to say goodbye."

"Very sensible of you, Ella Lorena is still a child; letting her remain one a little while longer is very wise of you."

She basked a little in his praise of her decision. Rhett was right, when he'd said earlier that after having the acceptance of the people of Charleston it would be hard to come back to Atlanta with its cold shoulders and harsh words. "We aren't staying long, just till the end of the week."

He nodded. "Charleston is a beautiful city."

"It is. The weather is lovely, very fair most of the time."

He glanced out to the front yard. A light drizzle had started. By morning the red clay would be churned into viscous mud. "You must miss it already; it's rained here nearly everyday for the last month."

"I'll be glad to go home."

"Then Charleston is home now?"

"It is."

He paused, thinking for a minute before speaking. "You seem very different Scarlett, more grown-up I'd say."

She took no offense, recognizing the truth of his statement and the absence of judgment in his words. "It was time, don't you think?"

He only smiled a little. "It happens to us all, sooner or later."

"You were with Pitty, at the end?"

"No. She passed in her sleep."

"Was she ill at all, before?"

"No. It came as a surprise to us all."

She nodded. "I was feeling guilty, it had been a while since I'd seen her or brought Wade. I'd been meaning to, once the weather was nicer but…"

"Pitty loved that boy very much. I was glad that you brought him here to raise. It soothed her, after Charlie died."

"I was just thinking about that. About the day I came to Atlanta. Do you know, I had no idea whether I'd stay a few weeks, maybe a month or two, at the most."

"It was the same for me. I came to Atlanta to set up a practice; I thought I'd stay a year or two, head out west, see what the fuss was about."

"But you didn't."

"No, I didn't. I met Mrs. Meade and the next thing I knew, a lifetime had passed."

"We aren't coming back," she confided suddenly, wanting to hear the words spoken out loud.

He smiled at the force behind her words. "Mrs. Meade has a cousin in Charleston. She mentioned in a letter not too long ago that she was holding a tea party for the daughter in law of one of her friends. The girl she described in the letter seemed very well liked."

A pure smile made Scarlett glow as if lit from within. Doctor Meade found himself returning the smile without hesitation. "I believe that she is well liked. She's happy. Her children are happy."

Reaching down, he patted her hand. "God bless Scarlett."

She nodded. She might have said more but the front door opened, interrupting their conversation.

"Dr. Meade," greeted Rhett, extending his hand.

Taking it, he shook it firmly. "Captain Butler, hello." The old doctor smiled. "Who is this with you; it can't possibly be Wade Hampton."

The boy, emulating his stepfather, offered the doctor his hand. "It's me sir.'

Pumping his hand eagerly, Doctor Meade smiled. "So it is. How are you my boy?"

"Very well sir."

"Did you and Beau have a good visit?"

"We did. Uncle Ashley said that maybe Beau can come again during the summer."

"That's fine. It's good that you two are so close. Family is important, the most important thing in the world."

Remembering the lost Meade boys, Scarlett took Wade's hand. "It's true. Wade, would you help me up."

The young man helped her to her feet. "We'll see you tomorrow. Good evening, Doctor Meade."

"Pitty wanted you to speak tomorrow, did anyone mention it?"

"Yes. It's an honor, but I was surprised."

"Pitty was very fond of you Scarlett. You and Melly were the daughters she never had."

A week earlier, Scarlett would have sworn she couldn't give a damn what Pitty thought of her. Pittypay Hamilton was a silly, scatterbrained woman whose good opinion didn't matter one way or the other to Scarlett. She was an obligation, inherited along with half interest in the Peachtree Street house from Charles. Now though, now she wanted to know that Pitty did in fact like her.

"She came after Bonnie died. Almost no one would come to call on me, but she did. I never thought about it before, but it was brave of her. She never liked to go against popular opinion. I'd stopped giving her money for the house, because India was here, but she still came." Looking toward Rhett, she began to cry.

Taking her into his arms, Rhett looked over her head at Doctor Meade. Doctor Meade nodded slightly. "Scarlett, let's go back to the hotel. Please."

She wiped her eyes. "I'm so embarrassed; I don't know what's the matter with me? I hardly ever cry."

"There's no shame in feeling sad when you lose someone Scarlett," offered Doctor Meade. "Being strong, it's a virtue, not a requirement."

"I would disagree Doctor Meade," replied Scarlett, taking Rhett's handkerchief.

"Disagree all you like but go and rest. That's my advice, as a doctor."

Looking at him, she searched his face for a deeper meaning. "You're right," she agreed finally, "it has been a long day. Tomorrow will be another one."

Once in the carriage, she sat back, trying to ease the developing ache in her lower back.

"Are you alright mother?"

"I am but we do need to talk."

He swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing slightly. "Alright."

"Aren't you going to ask about what?"

"No ma'am, it's about what I said to Beau's aunt, isn't it?"

"Partly. More about Aunt Pitty's house though."

"What about it," the boy asked, his expression suddenly serious.

"I was thinking, it's here in Atlanta and we aren't. I'm going to sell the store and some other interests I have and Rhett and I have decided we are going to sell the Peachtree Street house."

"What about Tara?"

"There is no what about Tara. Tara will stay as it is. If I can wrest Aunt Careen's share from the church, I'll buy Sue's share. Then one day, it will finally be just as Pa wanted it, mine." She smiled at that before continuing. "Ashley, Beau, and India are all living at Pitty's, why don't we just see if Uncle Ashley wants to buy the share your father left you?"

"Why don't we see if I can buy the share Aunt Melly left Beau?"

She glanced at Rhett, not liking Wade's tone of voice. "Well, because we are in Charleston now."

"My father left me half of that house." He looked away, muttering under his breath, "I don't even think Beau should have a share, since he got it from his mother."

"Really and why do you say that, don't you think a woman should be able to inherit property?"

Hearing the undercurrents in Scarlett's question, Rhett quickly interceded. "Why do you want to buy Beau's share?"

"I don't have anything of my father's except his sword and the share in a house." He squirmed a little in his seat but finally, he lifted his face to look at Rhett. "You are my father, in the ways that count, you truly are. You've always been good to me, even before you married mother. I am grateful that Ella and I have you but I can't let what I have of my other father just go." He turned to Scarlett, a mute appeal in his eyes. "Don't make me give away what I have left of the Hamilton's, please."

Scarlett sighed softly. She wanted to make Rhett happy. She wanted to make her son happy. If Ashley would buy the house, then India living in it was his problem. She hated to let that witch win but really, how could she and Wade throw her out on the street? They could only what; ban her from half of the house? It was a ridiculous situation really, but perhaps Wade was right. They might be able to offer for Beau's share. It would mean continuing to own real estate in Atlanta, but possibly it was the best way to salvage the situation.

"Rhett, what do you think?"

"What do I think? I think it's between you and Wade. It's Wade's inheritance and you are the one managing it. Perhaps this is something that needs to be resolved by the two of you, as Charles Hamilton's family."

"Very nice," she commented under her breath.

"I thought so," he replied.

"Could we, mother?"

She thought for a moment. "Your father left us some land. I've put it to various uses, some of it as rental property, some I built houses on and then sold the property. I'm willing to say that since the investments I made were with from things I inherited from your father, that some of that money is by rights yours. I was going to use it for you to go to university and then to help you set up in business after."

"You know that I'll pay for his schooling Scarlett," said Rhett, "and if he needs to work a little harder to start himself off after, it'll be good for him."

"And if I own a house, I could always open a law practice out of the house, which would be a great savings."

The carriage rocked with Rhett's laughter. "There is no doubt about it," said Rhett grinning, "whose son you are Wade."

Ignoring his laughter, Scarlett shrugged. "There is nothing wrong with being practical."

"So you'll speak with Uncle Ashley," asked Wade eagerly.

"I'll speak with Uncle Henry first. See what he thinks."

Wade nodded, not wanting to push his already over extended luck.

"My son," said Scarlett finally as the carriage pulled up to the hotel, "a budding real estate mogul in the making."

"From humble starts," replied Rhett.

She smiled, finishing, "Come great things."


	148. The Wings of Morning

Once upon a time there was a girl who wrote a fanfic and then disappeared for a long time. I don't know what happened to her and I don't care, let's make this about me.

I've missed all of you and thank you from the bottom of my heart for the reviews over the last few months despite the fact I haven't posted in some time.

I always think the new readers are lucky, this seems like a timely update. Sorry to the long term readers who thought I had died or been abducted by aliens.

It's a short one, but much like me, it has a twin (right PFL) that I hope to post next week.

* * *

True to Scarlett's prediction of the previous day, those mourning Pittypat Hamilton had found themselves standing nearly ankle deep in thick, soupy red mud. The rain the previous day had continued throughout the night, churning the rich, red Georgia clay into viscous mud that sucked at the footwear of the mourners, threatening to leave several of them barefoot.

Rhett and Ashley were among the pallbearers shouldering the weight of Pittypat's coffin. Watching Pitty's coffin, Scarlett saw the strain on Ashley's face as he nearly lost his footing on a patch of leaves littering the path. Her breath caught in her throat, horror welling up in the pit of her stomach. If the coffin should fall, the image was nearly too awful to contemplate, but then, the other pallbearers were able to keep it even and aloft. Watching them, Rhett and Ashley carrying the casket of her son's late aunt, she was struck by how it all came to be, how she had come to this moment.

How strangely intertwined our lives all were, thought Scarlett suppressing a shiver as the wind gusted suddenly.

Pittypat had welcomed her into her life and allowed her to remain in her home. It didn't matter, at least, not really, that Scarlett had a right to a share of the house as Charlie's widow. The house on Peachtree Street was Pitty's and she had opened it to Scarlett in what really had been one of her lowest hours. If she'd remained at Tara during the war, she would have gone mad. If she'd remained at Tara, there would be no Rhett. It was only because Pitty had been such a poor chaperone that Rhett had been able to worm his way into her affections.

In a very real way, acknowledged Scarlett thoughtfully, Pitty had changed the course of her life. That simple invitation for a visit, taking her away from the watchful eyes of Mammy…

Mammy. Her eyes darted upward. Were they together, watching over her Mammy and Ellen.

Ellen. The inside of her cheeks stung as her eyes burned. She tried to will them away, the tears but thinking about them, about all the people now lost to her, brought an involuntary tear to her eye.

Taking his place at the head of the grave, Ashley cleared his throat softly.

Pa.

Just like Pa's funeral, Ashley was going to speak over the grave.

It was almost too much.

As his soft, rich voice washed over those gathered, Scarlett drifted to that other funeral. Her too tight dress reeking of cheap black dye straining painfully over her pregnant belly, the smell of the freshly turned earth, the pain in her heart at the thought that Gerald was gone forever, gone where she could not follow him. Her father, the only person whose love and pride in her she never doubted for a single moment.

Her thoughts elsewhere, when she heard her name, her head came up with a violent jerk. Dr. Meade waited by her side. "Doctor Meade," she whispered softly.

"Pitty wanted you to speak. I know you didn't want to at the church but, will you now?"

Hesitating for a second, she then nodded.

"May I help you," he asked.

"Thank you."

Escorting her to the head of the casket, she felt him give her arm a slight, reassuring squeeze.

Clearing her throat a little, Scarlett looked out over the assembly. "I don't know what exactly to say so, if none of you mind; I'd like to recite my mother's favorite psalm. She loved it and recited it often during evening prayers. I always thought, and perhaps I am wrong, but I always thought it was about how God knows and loves us in spite of that knowledge of us, of our imperfections. Its how I feel," she took a breath before correcting herself, "felt, about Pitty. That in spite of my many, many imperfections, she loved me as I am. She didn't always agree or approve, but she loved. I am thankful to have known her and my life is better for that knowing.

O LORD, thou hast searched me, and known me.

Thou knowest my downsitting and mine uprising, thou understandest my thought afar off.

Thou compassest my path and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my ways.

For there is not a word in my tongue, but, lo, O LORD, thou knowest it altogether.

Thou hast beset me behind and before, and laid thine hand upon me.

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high, I cannot attain unto it.

Whither shall I go from thy spirit? or whither shall I flee from thy presence?

I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there.

If I take the wings of the morning…"

A lump was forming in her throat. Her own voice did not have the liquid, costal tones of her mother, but as she spoke the words aloud she'd so often heard her mother recite, she could almost hear her.

"If I take the wings of morning," she repeated, finding her place once more, "and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea;

Even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me.

If I say, Surely the darkness shall cover me; even the night shall be light about me."

Her voice was thick with suppressed emotion, giving depth to her recitation. The assembly was visibly moved by her words, the depth of emotion Scarlett felt came clearly through. The words were very nearly music in and of themselves and several ladies wiped a tear away as the gentle rise and fall of Scarlett's recitation continued.

"Yet, the darkness hideth me not from thee; but the night shineth as the day: the darkness and the light are both alike to thee.

For thou hast possessed my reins: thou hast covered me in my mother's womb."

The word mother was a whisper as the blood roared in her ears; she could almost reach across long past years to Tara, to the parlor where they all gathered night after night. Suddenly, she realized what a poor choice it was to recite her mother's favorite psalm. There wasn't very much left though and she knew she had to finish or be shamed in front of them all. Squaring her small shoulders, she continued.

"I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvelous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well.

My substance was not hid from thee, when I was made in secret, and curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.

Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being unperfect; and in thy book all my members were written, which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of them.

How precious also are thy thoughts unto me, O God! how great is the sum of them!

If I should count them, they are more in number than the sand: when I awake, I am still with thee."

She looked toward Rhett. He gave her a barely perceivable nod, encouraging her.

"Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts:

and see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting." She cringed, realizing she'd forgotten a bit of the end, but it didn't seem to matter. There was not one face that wore a look of disapproval, even India seemed slightly moved.

It was Doctor Meade that handed her a single rose. Reaching out gently, he took Scarlett's hand in his and wrapped her reluctant fingers around it's stem. Through she gave no visable sign, inwardly she cringed. The thud of the flowers hitting Bonnie's small casket roared up in her ears and looking him in the eye, she spoke softly. "It's not exactly the same, but a wise woman once told me, if you don't hear that sound; people aren't actually dead to you. But once you hear it . . . it's the most dreadfully final sound in the world."

"Scarlett," begun the doctor, but before he could finish, Wade had joined them.

Moving to his mother's side, Wade took the flower from Dr. Meade. His words were soft, meant only for her ears. "Pretend you're anywhere else mother, I'll do it, for both of us."

Wrapping her hand around Wade's, she shook her head. "Together. We'll do it together.


	149. Here he lies

Wade had asked to go back to Pittypat's house with Beau and, exhaustion rendering her numb, Scarlett gave reluctant permission. When she expressed concern over Wade's soaking wet attire and mud encrusted shoes, Ashley offered to make sure Wade changed into something of Beau's once they arrived back at the house.

Looking up at Rhett, she sighed quietly. "On one condition, once you get back to the house, you stay away from India, do you understand me?"

Wade nodded, "Yes ma'am."

Turning her attention to Ashley, her expression hardened. "Keep your sister away from my son. She tried to put her hands on him yesterday and only because of Uncle Henry did I let her keep her teeth in that foul tongued mouth."

"Scarlett…"

She shook her head, her feral green eyes glittering dangerously. "If she so much as looks at him cross-eyed and I find out, I promise you, she won't have to worry about eviction because I will give her something far greater to worry about."

Looking over toward the first carriage containing India, Ashley reached out his hands to her in a familiar gesture of appeal. Taking her hand in his, he tried to smooth over things. "Scarlett, I think that yesterday tempers were running high and things were said that—"

Yanking her hand away, she drew back while two hectic blotches of red flared in her pale cheeks. "Don't you dare, do you hear me? Don't you dare play the statesmen with me, Ashley Wilkes. You listen and you listen good, I've known your rotten sister all my life, and she is lucky that you all came in when you did or I would have given her the beating she so sorely needs and so richly deserves."

"Please Scarlett," pleaded Ashley softly, "let it go, for now at least."

Glancing toward the floral tributes sagging limply in the light, misting rain that had begun to fall again, Scarlett gritted her teeth. "For now, I will put it aside because I wouldn't want to shame Wade or Uncle Henry. If we were anywhere else in the world right now but Atlanta where all the old cats would love to talk themselves blue about another scandalous act by Scarlett O'Hara, I don't know that I'd be so easily swayed. As it is, let's all just say our goodbyes."

Turning before he could speak to her, Scarlett rested her hand on Wade's shoulder. "You were wonderful today son; I couldn't have made it through the day without you. Be good and Rhett and I will see you later." Without looking at Ashley again, she took Rhett's arm. "Take me back to the hotel please," she implored softly.

He nodded. "We'll be along soon Wade," Rhett told his stepson. His expression, cool and bland while watching Scarlett and Ashley's exchange, softened as he regarded his stepson. "Your mother is right; we're both very proud of you. Not just today Wade, but every day."

Wade ducked his head at their praise. "Thank you, sir."

Looking back toward Pitty's grave, Scarlett sighed softly. His hat clutched in his hands, shoulders slumped with age and grief, Uncle Peter stood beside Pitty's grave. "Oh Rhett," she said softly, "look at him, poor Uncle Peter. Wait for me here; it's going to storm again and he cannot stay out here. Pitty and Melly would never forgive me if I left him here to catch pneumonia. I'll just be a minute."

Catching her hand, Rhett leaned forward, his breath caressing her cheek. "Wherever she is, your mother sees you Scarlett, and she's as proud of you as I am."

"Fiddle dee dee," she replied, her voice catching slightly. "Wait for me?"

"For the rest of my life, if that's what it takes."

Navigating the soggy ground carefully, Scarlett made her way to Peter's side. "Are you alright?"

Shaking his grizzled head, Peter wiped his rheumy eyes. "No ma'am, I ain't. My po'r Miz Pitty is in the groun'. It's cold out here Miz Scarlett and you know Miz Pitty al'wys hated getting' wet and cold. Out here's both."

She felt tears welling in her eyes. Keeping her voice soft, she patted his arm. "When we buried Miss Bonnie, it was all I could do to keep from screaming. All I could think of was that my little girl who loved playing outside in the sun was going down into the dark. I didn't want to let her go either, but I had no choice. None of us have a choice Uncle Peter, we just have to say goodbye, like I did with Bonnie and you need to do with Miss Pitty."

He nodded. "Lil' miss is wit Miz Pitty and Miz Melly. I know they's watchin ov'r her. Mis'tah Charles too. He love you Miz Scarlett, he lookin out for your lit'tle one."

"I believe that completely Uncle Peter. I know my Bonnie is with them, with them all."

"Your words were very moving Scarlett, thank you."

Slightly startled she turned from Uncle Peter to offer a gloved hand to Henry. "You are welcome Henry, I can only hope Pitty would have approved."

"I'm sure she would have Scarlett. She loved you very much Scarlett, never forget that."

She smiled faintly," Thank you, I won't."

"Mis'tah Henry, can I ask ya som'thin?"

Henry nodded. "Yes Peter, of course you may."

"Where I gonna go?

Henry looked taken aback. "Why nowhere Peter. Mister Ashley and Miss India are planning on keeping up in the Peachtree Street house," he ignored Scarlett's dismissive snort, continuing, "I assumed you'd want to stay on and work for Mister Ashley and Miss India. I know they'll want you to stay, that house is your home too, you know that."

"Don't mean that, I mean when I die. Your bro'tha, Mista Robet, promise me, someday, when you die Pete'a, he say, I'm gonna take care of everything for you. He said, they goona make a cem'tary in Atlanta and you gonna go isn't ad ground in th'a Hamilton section. Tole me tha' in Mexi'co when he wuz dyin. He wuz burn'in up and he tole me, "you leave me you fool and ligh't out fer home. Take care of my fam'ly."

I tole him no suh, I stayin an I did. He got betta and tole me I wuz like fami'y an when tha time come, I could go wit the fam'ly." His rheumy eyes narrowed as he looked at the Hamilton section. "'c'epting, there ta'int no plot fer me. One lef't fer you suh, one for Mis'tah Ashley when he go, one for Miss Scarlett, next ta Mist'ah Charles. Where I gonna go Mist'ah Henry?"

Henry looked flustered for a moment. "When Robert promised you that, circumstances were different. There was still quite a bit of land in this section and we planned on buying more."

"But ya did'n."

"No Peter, we did not buy any more land."

The old man shook his head. "Mis'tah Henry, Mis'tah Robe't wuz bleedin in my arms. I torn up my coat ta' stop his blud. It stained my hands. While I nursed 'im, ee swore to me, he said "You go wit' us Peter, I prom'se ya."

Henry frowned a little. "I suppose I might be able to get you a plot in the Negro Section. If Robert promised to see to your final arrangements, I suppose it's up to me to fulfill that promise."

"He promise me th't I'd go with y'all, not som'where near."

Henry looked irritated but trying to keep his voice even, he tried to reason with Peter. "Be sensible Peter, there isn't any space left in the Hamilton plot."

Scarlett cleared her throat delicately. "Uncle Peter could have my plot. My place is with Rhett or at Tara. I know Rhett would want to be with Bonnie or possibly with his family on their plantation in Charleston but that's all beside the point, my point is Uncle Peter can have my place, I know Charlie wouldn't mind."

"Miz Scarlett, thank you. Mighty kind of ya'."

"Kind, but it's hardly appropriate. And Scarlett, what about Wade," Henry quickly added.

"What about him?"

"Well, he might want to be laid to rest one day beside his father."

"But Henry, if there is only one plot for Wade, what about if he marries? Or has children? Or never sets foot in Atlanta again? No, it's best if Uncle Peter has it."

Peter shook his head. "Ta'int that Miz Scarlett, Mist'ah Henry don' want me in the Hamil'ton plot, ain't that right?"

"Peter, when my brother promised you, he must have been half out of his mind with fever and pain, you must see, it's impossible."

"Mist'ah Robert offer me my freedo'm when we was comin' back from Mexico, did ya know that?"

Scarlett's eyes widened, "Why did he change his mind?"

Peter's shoulders straightened and he lifted his chin. There, in the fading light, Scarlett could almost see the proud, strong man Peter must have once been. "Mis'tah Robert didn't change his mind, he nev'a would go back on his word. He put up my papers his'self, signed 'em, and told me not to be fool 'nuff to lose them."

"So before the war, you were free? When exactly did Charlie's father free you," asked Scarlett.

"Janua'ry 1848," replied Peter proudly, "he wen' to a lawye' friend and after, he told me to hold myself proud," his expression became heavy, "then, he died not so long after. I might'a headed North, to try out what freedom wuz 'bout but of cou'se I wouldn'. Miz Pitty come to raise Mis'tah Charles and Miz Melly and they all need me. Miz Pitty could'n raise 'em on her own."

Would she have freed Mammy and Pork if the war hadn't? Secretly, she knew she could never have. What if they had left her? Not that Mammy would have, of course, it was just more the idea that she could have, had she chosen to do so. Pork had stayed at Tara after being freed, but it would have been hard to know for sure. Charlie's father must have valued and trusted Peter deeply to give him his freedom, she thought. "Henry, there's nothing we can do? People might understand you know, everyone knows that Peter gave everything to the Hamilton's and now, knowing he stayed the family when he didn't have to, wouldn't they understand?"

She felt him before she looked to see Rhett standing beside Peter. Him and his damned cat feet, she thought, suppressing a smirk.

Rhett rested a hand on Peter's shoulder. "It doesn't matter Scarlett, does it Peter?"

Peter looked at Henry. Drawing himself up fully, he met Henry eye to eye. "Mist'ah Henry, I's goin'. Miz Scarlett and Cap'n Butler been good 'nuff to offer me a position, I 'cepted. I won' needa plot here. I 'spect I's gonna die in Chalest'on. Maybe I'll buy inta a burin' club."

Rhett expression was encouraging. "A fine idea Peter, or if you like, there's the burying ground out at Dunmore Landing, my family's plantation."

"I'll give it thou't Cap'n. Mis'tah Henry, I'm gonna need my wages."

"Peter, come now," implored Henry, "you're too old for this foolishness. Do you really want to uproot yourself? Live among strangers?"

"Mis'tah Ashley and Miz India is near strangers to me. Mis'tah Wade is the next gen'ration of Hamiltons, my place is servin' him. It ain't foolish to wanna work Mis'tah Henry."

"You already have a position here, why should that change? What will Mister Ashley and Miss India do without you?"

"Well suh, I reckon they's 'bout to find out."


	150. Back in Black

**We lost my grandmother this weekend. It is her that those of you who enjoy my fanfiction have to thank for it. Without her, there would be no Facing the Enemy, or This Year's Love, or The Lady.**

**She was the one who introduced me to Gone with the Wind in 1989 when I was 10 years old.**

**I remember reading the book and telling her that I found a book that would make the greatest movie ever. She then took out the video (lol, yup a video for those readers who are unfamiliar, try looking it up on Encarta haha) and by the end, a love affair that would last the rest of my life began.**

**She bought me "A pictorial history of Gone with the Wind" that year. In the back, there were pictures of various magazine that came out when the movie was released. At the age of 11, I vowed I would own them one day. She effectively started my memorabilia collection. In truth, she was my first windie friend.**

**I could never really thank her enough for encouraging a hobby that has been a source of joy, a source of good friends, a source of pride. It has sustained me in my darkest hours.**

**Every time I watch the movie, every time I read the book, every time I buy something new; I will think of her.**

**God rest you.**

* * *

Unable to hear the conversation from afar, Ashley could only wonder what Henry had said. It must have been something quite upsettingly to make Scarlett so irate. It was clear, even from afar, that she was fuming. Watching Rhett help Scarlett make their way toward their own carriage, he carefully considered what they had just discussed.

She'd made it clear to him, as only she knew how; that she would not soon forget Wade's treatment at India's hands. Looking at his nephew and son, Ashley summoned a slight smile. "Well gentlemen, let's do our best to make it through the rest of the day in one piece, shall we?"

"Yes sir," chorused Wade and Beau. Settling back into the plush squabs, Wade spoke softly. "I sure wouldn't want mother mad at me."

"Do you think Auntie will thrash Aunt India," asked Beau excitedly, his soft brown eyes sparkling. By his approximation, Auntie Scarlett was the most exciting woman in all the world. She was the only woman of his acquaintance who might finally give his awful Aunt India what she deserved. India treated him badly, yelling constantly at him about trivial matters. Her anger affected him so badly that it made him miss his gentle, loving mother even more.

Ashley looked at Beau, his grey eyes serious. "I am sure that your Aunts will behave themselves, but, for the moment, let's look to your behavior. It isn't gentlemanly of you to wonder such a thing Beauregard Wilkes," Ashley chided gently.

Beau's small golden head dropped forward, as his eyes welled at being reprimanded. "I'm sorry sir," he said in a small voice. "I didn't mean any disrespect." Feeling brave, he raised his head, "But sir, it's just that Auntie is awful mad and mama said that Auntie could lick a passel of Yankees when she was angry."

Channeling Scarlett, Wade snorted genteelly, drawing Ashley's disapproving gaze. Like his mother, he was not in the least bothered by his Uncle's apparent disapproval. "Your Aunt India should probably avoid my mother, just in case."

"Your mother can be trusted to behave properly and Beau, she may be angry with Aunt India but I am sure she will keep that anger firmly in check."

Wade and Beau exchanged a knowing look. "Shows what you know," muttered Wade under his breath.

"What was that Wade," asked Ashley.

"Nothing Uncle Ashley," replied Wade, "nothing at all,"

Closing the hotel door behind them, he was grateful that someone had thought to warm the room for them. A fire blazed merrily in the Italian marble fireplace, casting flickering shadows across their large suite while failing to illuminate the furthest corners.

Tossing his hat and gloves carelessly on the nearest chair, he turned his attention to Scarlett. She was still and uncharacteristically silent under his quizzical gaze.

"May I?" She nodded, once up and once down, as if every movement cost her dearly.

She seemed to need silence and for the time being, he was willing to give it to her. It occurred to him, not for the first time, the trappings of mourning were meant to further isolate the mourner while plunging them into deep grieving. His darling wife, through bad luck and circumstance, was in many ways a professional mourner.

While most woman of Scarlett's class owned at least one black mourning gown, she owned over three dozen dresses that had been used in some stage of mourning. Possessing a tidy and highly fastidious mind, her closet in their Atlanta home were organized into two sides. The left side contained her mourning dresses and the accessories that went with them. When she was out of mourning, those dresses and boxes remained untouched and almost completely ignored by their owner.

As a new bride, she brought several black mourning gowns with her when they moved into their home. He'd wanted to poke fun at her clinging to them, but at the time, it seemed too taboo a subject. While she would often do as she pleased, marrying him so soon after leaving off full mourning for Frank Kennedy left her in a state of confusion when it came to her wardrobe.

At the time of their marriage, Scarlett should have been just entering half mourning. Instead, she was a bride. Wanting to at least try and honor convention for convention's sake, she would wear dove grey, mauve, and purple gowns at least once a week. Burgundy, a color he'd always loved on her, was also a color she favored in those days as well as dark blue. On their honeymoon, she wore what she liked but when they returned to Atlanta, she tried to honor at least the letter of the law. It had amused him them, how she tried to honor some conventions while casting others off wholeheartedly.

Of course, being Scarlett, the dresses she wore were beautifully constructed and suited her perfectly.

The plethora of black mourning dresses only came after they lost Bonnie. Then, the colored dresses suitable for half mourning were pushed to the far back of her closet replaced with only black. Black dresses made from henrietta and melrose trimmed with crepe. Bombazine dresses for days when Scarlett had supervised the household and gone over the accounts. Black dresses with white lawn cuffs and collars, the white symbolizing that Scarlett was in mourning for a young child. Then, just when it would have been socially acceptable to leave off full mourning for Bonnie, Melly died.

He wondered how many days Scarlett had spent in black? So much of her adult life had been spent in some stage of mourning. She'd only packed a few black dresses to bring to Charleston, but still, she packed them because it was second nature to her.

Only when it came to mourning jewelry did Scarlett rigidly adhere to society's conventions. At her throat was a cameo he remembered from the war years, an expertly rendered shell cameo depicting the three graces. In a small compartment below the cameo was a lock of Charles Hamilton's hair. He remembered asking her if she missed Charles Hamilton so much that she needed such a personal reminder. Her reply came in a soft voice. It wasn't what the cameo represented, it was where it had come from that mattered. Her mother had it made for her from a piece she'd owned and it meant a great deal to Scarlett.

Not waiting for her reply or refusal, he began helping a still silent Scarlett out of her black velvet and silk moiré cape. It hung damply in his hands. Most likely, it was ruined but still, he would make the effort. His movements were smooth, as he deliberately moved away from her. The expensive wrap might well be ruined but regardless, he carefully hung it over a chair near the fireplace.

"God rest that good woman. It's been a long day love, but at least it's over now."

There was only silence.

Turning toward her, Rhett spoke kindly. "It is over. Another few days and we can leave this damned town. I miss Ella, don't you?"

Lifting her head, he watched as her face contorted painfully. Her swollen, red rimmed eyes looked up at him. There were no tears in her jade green eyes. He thought that tears would have served her better than the deep-seated grief she seemed to carry. "It isn't over though, not really. It's not over. This," she gestured to her heavy black skirts streaked with splashes of drying mud, "it never seems to end."

"I know it must seem that way."

She looked away, a soft sound escaping her lips. "Seem? It must seem that way? It's always this. It's always, here, like this."

"I know."

"Do you, do you really know? You've said that you do but sometimes I wonder how you could? How could any man? How could any of you really know how it is to have to do this, to dress like this? No, you can't know how I feel about being here, being back in yards and yards of black again. I feel like I am suffocating in these clothes. I look down and all this black, it drives me mad until I just want to throw back my head and scream until everyone knows. Until they all know that I can't stand it any more."

His jaw clenched faintly, but he kept the hurt from his voice. "I've lost people as well Scarlett," he reminded her softly, "maybe I don't have to drape myself in twenty yards of black, but I know what it is to feel as if I am drowning in grief, don't forget that."

Suddenly chastised, she looked up at him, her lips parted slightly but there were no words. The silence fell between them, thick and seemingly impenetrable. "Yes. You have," she offered softly. "I don't know why I do that. I wish I knew."

"Do what honey?"

"Strike at you. I just can't seem to help myself. My heart hurts and I would do anything to stop it and I feel like if I just let it out, it will stop it. But it never does, it just makes it worse. I'm sorry that…"

"Don't."

"No, I have to say this. If it sounded as if I were implying you didn't know what it was to mourn, I misspoke. I haven't forgotten what you've lost, not ever." She clasped his hand tightly, clinging to it as a drowning woman might cling to a rope. "I need you to do something for me now."

Seeing the contrition in her eyes, he came to her. Brushing the back of his knuckles across her soft cheek, he rested his other hand on her hip. Through the damp layers of fabric, she could feel the heat that radiated from his touch. Her eyes closed for a minute and some of the tension drained from her body. "What is it Scarlett," he asked.

"This," she replied softly, reaching up to cup the back of his head. "Just this." She kissed him, delicately at first but soon it grew in passion.

"Scarlett—"

She shook her head, her cheeks coloring under the intensity in his dark eyes. "Love me."

"I do," he said vehemently.

A warm flush rose in her cheeks. "I meant now. Be with me now, make me forget this day, make me forget every other one like it."

"It's not-," he paused. God help him, he wanted her. Even standing there, dressed in mourning, he wanted her. He was no gentleman, despite Miss Melly's claims to the contrary. The blood of saint's did not flow in his veins. He was just a man who loved the woman in front of him. He was not a man who loved easily but he loved her. From the first, to the last, there could never be anyone for him except her. He wanted her but still, she was grieving. It was possible she didn't really know what she wanted. He wanted to give her what she needed but, what did she really need?

She could read the hesitation in his eyes. "Please, I know you must think I've gone crazy and it's entirely possible that I have but I feel like I may never feel anything ever again. I need you. I need you to make me feel alive."

"Sweetheart," he reached out for her but she moved away, taking a shaky step back.

"While you're busy trying to figure out what to do, could help me out of these clothes?" She tried to smile but it faltered quickly. "You'll just have to do most of the work because I think I may just close my eyes because I don't even want to catch even one more glimpse of myself in this dress." Her voice shook. "Please." She didn't give him a chance to speak before plunging forward. "It's just that I can't stand it anymore, I never want to be here, in Atlanta, in black, again. Never again, do you hear me?"

"Scarlett, sit down."

Her voice rose shrilly. "No more death, no more black dresses, no more of any of it. I only want to think of us, just us. I only want to think of our new life together. That life, it is everything. I don't want to let anything bad touch it."

"That's what I want, it's what I've always wanted, to keep anything bad from touching you." He moved toward her, but she drew back, shaking her head.

"If you mean that, then you'll take me to bed and make me forget all the days that I felt like this. It's what I need even if I can't tell you properly. I can't make you understand the way I want you to. I just can't. I'm not like you, I can't always find the right words to tell you, to make it clear to you how I feel about you."

Silently, he swept her up into his arms, drawing a sharp, protesting noise from her before she quieted. Placing her on the bed, he began the arduous process of undressing her. "Poor Scarlett," he said softly, "my poor baby."

He felt her stiffen in his arms. "No," she suddenly protested sharply, swatting at his hands. Her back straightened and her head came up. There she was, Scarlett O'Hara, once more. Her moment of weakness had passed; the brittle way her eyes glittered told him so. His words incited shame in her breast; she was not and had never been "not poor Scarlett."

"I was wrong for asking you. It was a long day and I am sorry for how I acted just now. I was being selfish, weak. I was being weak. I can't take off these clothes." She reached out, resting her palm against his cheek. "I can't be with you now. I want to be, I think I need to be, but we have to go back over to Pitty's house. They're all expecting us."

"There's no shame in grieving."

She began to button her bodice. "Your right, there isn't. There is shame in throwing myself at you because I didn't want to go and finish this day. For that, I'm sorry."

Catching her hand in his, he stopped her. Gently tracing his fingers up, he stopped when his fingertips grazed her chin. Raising her chin so he could look into her green eyes, green eyes now at last clouded by unshed tears, he shook his head. "No."

"Yes."

"We aren't going anywhere."

"We most certainly are."

"If we aren't there, people will talk."

"People always talk, and in Atlanta, it's generally about us. The honest and god fearing talking about us, that isn't anything new," he teased.

Pushing him away, she began to rebutton her basque. "I have an obligation to be there. I don't want to be there, but I have to be. I don't think I could make myself go out of social obligation, but this is an obligation toward being respectable for Wade's sake, for both the children's sakes."

"Stop it." His hand covered hers, forcing them away from her gaping basque. "Let's pretend something, shall we? Let's pretend we have the sort of marriage where I, the husband, tells you, my wife, what to do." He smiled slightly, "And in case you are completely unfamiliar with what, I admit, may be a new concept for you, after I tell you what to do, then," he added helpfully, "you do it."

"Fiddle-dee-dee," she said, her lips thinning while her eyes glowed luminously with the fires of righteous indignation. "You want me to take orders from you? I've never taken orders from any of the men I've married and I have no intention of starting now. That I love you more than your predecessors, I won't deny, but it doesn't make me your slave."

Suddenly, giving her no time to protest or draw away, his arms were around her. She felt again the rush of helplessness, the immense desire to give over to something more than herself. These desires were uncontrollable; they were what had lead to her accepting his absurd proposal of matrimony so many years ago.

He kissed her deeply. The feel of his lips on hers, the rush of heat that began to consume her as she felt him deftly unbuttoning the remaining buttons on her basque with one hand; she wanted him. Honor and duty did not come naturally to her but practicality did. 'Stop him,' her sharp, practical mind cried out. 'Tell him to stop, demand it before it's too late."

She could not. She could not tell him to stop. She could no sooner ask him to stop kissing her then she could force her frantic heart to stop beating.

He sensed her capitulation. Something bluntly male responded to that surrender in a way that was so deeply tainted by primitive urges that later he felt a small stirring of fear at how great his feelings for her truly were.

Reaching up, he was not gentle when he jerked her basque from her body. He continued to kiss her even as he stripped her. Every inch of skin that he exposed, he caressed with his mouth and tongue. Pressing her back onto the bed, he kissed her, softly at first, whispering her name briefly before he parted her lips with his.

His own clothes he made short work of, coming back to her swiftly as if he feared that even a short separation would allow her to regroup.

"Rhett, please…" she mumbled even as her arms wrapped around his neck.

He laughed deeply, his chest warm and bare against her. "Please what, stop? Do you really want that? Are you really so eager to hurry over to sit with the Wilkes siblings?"

"Well, no," she offered hesitantly.

Propping himself up on one elbow, Rhett studied her candidly. It was her eyes, he knew, that always entrapped him. For most women eyes were just eyes, they held no particular mystery. Her's were different, those deep green eyes were different from every other pair he'd ever looked into. "I've loved you since that vase was sent hurling across a room in Clayton County all those years ago."

"Not that many years."

He pressed his finger to her lips, silencing her. "When you feel like you're alone, you aren't. No matter what, you will always have my love. It will be with you, even if I'm not. I will always be with you." He touched his fingers to his lips before placing them on her breast, just over her heart. Lightly he pressed his fingertips into her soft flesh until he could feel her racing pulse. "I swear to you, I am yours, for as long as you'll have me."

She sighed softly."Rhett, I do love you. I wonder that it didn't ever occur to me that I must have for years."

"You took your own damned sweet time to realize that you loved me."

She lifted her head haughtily. In that moment, she was a goddess, a bed tumbled empresses. There was a flicker in her eyes, something daring, her turbulent green eyes issuing a bold challenge. "And you took your own damned sweet time to tell me in the first place," she countered, "really Rhett, we could have saved a lot of heartache and had a lot more fun if you'd just plain said what it was you felt for me."

Her stormy eyes could not lie to him. Scarlett completely captivated him. She so wanted to do what was right, despite a natural inclination to the contrary. So many times, she did what was right for everyone she cared about even if it meant suppressing her own desires. She was an incongruity; the most selfish selfless person he would ever know.

Her desire for him, expressed by her rich green eyes was clear, so clear that he had no more doubts. She needed him to be selfish for the both of them. Lifting his hand, he brushed back her hair and lowered his lips to hers.

There was something dangerously sensual about the look on her face when he drew back. Looking back at him with a self-satisfied smirk shaping her lips, she appeared to be waiting for a comment. He wanted to tease her, verbally jab at her a little; but he resisted. Instead, he spoke the truth.

"You are so very beautiful."

Her face and the translucent white of her breasts flushed softly as she smiled back at the man who had captured her, heart and soul. "You once told me you've known women more beautiful than me."

He smiled that twisty half smile that was so unique to him. "I lied."

She put her arms around his neck and pulled him down, lightly pressing herself against him. "I knew it all along," she said, before allowing herself to sink into sweet abandonment.


	151. Better to light a candle

**Happy Birthday to me! Tomorrow is my birthday so I gave myself the day to work on this chapter as a gift.**

**I thought maybe some of you might like to celebrate with me :D**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"You are beyond anything I could have imagined," Rhett told her softly, drawing her close. Tracing her spine lightly with the tips of his fingers, he pressed his lips to the sensitive skin behind her ear. "I did imagine this, how it would be when I had you in my clutches at long last."

"So you did think of me," she teased.

He laughed softly, "I'll admit this, I didn't think I'd have to marry you. Then, the longer I knew you; I realized that while I might tease you, I would never, I could never dishonor you by making you anything other than my wife."

Turning in his arms to face him, she smiled sweetly. "I think if I had it to do over again, I'd tell you when I first realized that I loved you."

Kissing her lightly on the brow, his expression became pensive, "If it's time for confessions, you were often on my mind when you were here inAtlantaand I was inCharleston."

Quirking one dark brow, she smiled benevolently. "Poor Rhett," she purred. "Well, as I've told you, I did stop sometimes to give you consideration, not all the time of course, but now and again, I would wonder how you were."

"You, my dear, are generosity personified. For my part, it seemed as if I could never find joy in anything. I would work myself to exhaustion at the Landing. I would go riding in the middle of the night. I would do just about anything to be able to fall into bed and fall right to sleep. If I lay awake in bed, I couldn't help but think of you. I dreamt about you."

Gently, he grasped her forearms and pulled her close. Kissing her softly, he whispered against her lips, "You haunted me, you beautiful specter, night and day."

Her eyes narrowed slightly at what she perceived to be a lie, a chivalrous lie meant to conciliate her, but a lie just the same. Wriggling out of his grasp, she placed her pillow against the headboard of their bed. Sitting up, she avoided his gaze. "And yet, I don't recall you being very joyful when you were here inAtlantawith me. You were pretty straightforward in letting me know you were absolutely miserable."

Sitting up, he brushed her shoulder lightly, "Look at me Scarlett."

"Never mind, it doesn't matter anymore," she muttered.

"That's an obvious lie." Taking her chin in his hand, he gently turned her head so he could look into her eyes. "You are right, I was often miserable when I was here, but at least I was near you. In the end, being near you but still not having you, I couldn't bear it. Still, I could not make myself stay away from you and the children. The children, I hate to say, were a convenient excuse. I was able to convince myself that I was just coming home for the children. The children made our previous lives together far more bearable so that was a believable lie to tell myself."

She brushed a fingertip down the side of his throat until she found his pulse. She was quiet for a minute, counting out the beats of his heart. Her nose stung as tears threatened to fall but she willed them away. "I wish I had made our lives more than just bearable," she said softly.

Taking her hand in his, he pressed a kiss against the soft flesh of her palm. His mustache tickled her sensitive skin, coaxing a smile. "That's better," he said, returning her smile. Squeezing her hand, he continued, "It takes more than one person to make a marriage succeed. I didn't give you much to build upon after the first year, and then once Bonnie was born, I turned from you completely."

"That hurt the most, knowing you could love my children so dearly, but not me."

"I did love you, but I couldn't stand being in love with you. After awhile, I didn't want you to try. I wanted to believe that I had made a mistake, some nights, after enough alcohol, I would tell myself that one that I might one day rectify my mistake."

"A divorce," she whispered painfully. "You really considered it, you told me when you left with Bonnie that I should give you one, but I thought you were just being cruel."

He looked pained, melancholy mixed with guilt in his eyes. "I was being cruel to you that day but before that morning, I had come to a point where I tried to tell myself that what I felt for you was something passing, it had come; it would go."

"And when it finally went, what then?"

"Then, I would look in the mirror and swear that I could be content in a world in which you were free to marry someone else."

She burst out laughing, her cheeks flushing, her eyes flashing merrily. "Who would I marry? I'd been a widow two times over and then I would be a discarded and divorced wife to boot?" Snickering softly, she shifted in his arms so she could better see his face. "What a matrimonial prize I'd make," she began to simper in a heavy, syrup sweet drawl, "the eligible men, why they'd come a'running."

His expression was serious. "You underestimate yourself, my dear. I surrendered bachelorhood to be with you because I could not live without you. There would be other men willing to overlook many things to be with you."

"Well," she tilted her head playfully, "I do have pretty eyes, or so I've been told. Also, I would be rich. You know what they say don't you, that money does help," she teased.

"Just being you helps more." He cupped her face with his hands and began to kiss her deeply. When at last he broke the kiss, she was nearly breathless. Softly, he quoted, "In darkest shades if she appear, my dawning is begun. She is my soul's bright morning star, and she my rising sun."

Her soft red lips curved into a gentle smile. "That was beautiful."

"As are you."

Her smile faded, her expression turning serious. "I want to go home Rhett, toCharleston."

"IsCharlestonreally home?"

"It is. Right now, everything I need is there, that makes it home."

"What's there for you?"

"Right now Ella, she's what I miss most of all. I'm not saying that sometimes she doesn't drive me crazy. She does. I need to be more patient, but it's not one of my strong suits."

"You are trying, they know. I see it in their eyes, they love you for it Scarlett, as do I."

"I love her and Wade, but I know I'm still not good with children. Still, I miss Ella and your mother to." Scarlett laughed, "And I even miss that dratted dog who I suspect, even now, is sleeping on the sofa in my room."

"Ah Toby."

"I wish we could leave tonight without speaking to another soul. I never thought I'd say this and really believe it, butAtlantareally isn't home anymore. I know I kept saying that inCharleston, but now being here, it really is true. When I needed it,Atlantawas here for me. After Charlie died and I had Wade, I went toSavannah,Charlestontoo. I hated every minute. "

"You promised Wade you'd speak to Ashley about buying Beau's share of the house."

"Couldn't I do it by post," pouted Scarlett. "What aboutWestern Union?"

"Be serious."

"I am being serious. You see, I have already composed my telegram. Ashley stop, want to buy Beau's share of Pitty's house stop tellIndiato get out Stop. Scarlett. Short, to the point. Impossible to misinterpret."

Drawing her close, resting his chin on the crown of her head, he chuckled softly. "Cross purposes."

"Hmm," she murmured drowsy once more. She yawned softly, moving closer to his warmth. "How so? I think we are getting along just fine," she smirked wickedly, "for now, at any rate."

"Not you and I, for a change. No, this time the universe and I are at cross purposes. I would like nothing better than to conduct business with the esteemed Mister Wilkes by mail, but unfortunately, you know we cannot do so. We'll conduct business face to face and hope for the best."

"What do you mean, hope for the best," Scarlett's former drowsiness suddenly was replaced by faint indignation.

"I've cautioned you, you must realize, he might not be inclined to sell."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. Gone was the kittenish girl-woman of only minutes earlier. Now she was Scarlett O'Hara, hardheaded businesswoman. "Frankly, I don't even see why I should have to buy Beau's share. I do not see why he has a share at all. I know I snapped at Wade earlier, but between you and me, he is right."

"Like mother, like son?"

"Joke all you like, but it's true. He is the onlyHamiltonmale; the house belonged to Charlie's father, Colonel Hamilton. It should have gone from son to son. Bargaining with Ashley over something that should rightfully belong to my son, it's ridiculous is what it is."

"A sentiment best kept to yourself; my love."

She sighed sharply, signifying her annoyance with the situation, "If it wouldn't cause a ruckus, I'd find a lawyer to handle it all and not Henry either. I could only imagine how that would seem."

"It would seem as though you aren't afraid to do whatever you have to in order to get what you want."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"In this situation, I think you might try the path of least resistance first. Bullying grieving family might not look right."

"Well obviously," she replied tartly.

"Rhett?"

Silence from beside her.

"Rhett? Are you awake?"

He groaned softly, "No."

"Oh." Shifting her head on her pillow, she closed her eyes briefly before sitting up, the sheet pooling around her slender hips. "Rhett, be serious."

"I am being serious; I am sound asleep just as you should be."

"No, we should be on our way over to Pittypat's house and since when do you nap in the afternoon?"

Without opening his eyes, he reached for her, drawing her against his chest. "The bed is comfortable and the company," he kissed the back of her neck, "impeccable."

"Flattery will get you nowhere."

"Outside, it's wet, dreary, and complicated." His hand ran down her side, tickling and enticing her at the same time. "This, you and I, for the first time is without complication. Judge me if you like, but I prefer here." His hand cupped her breast. Softly, he ran the pad of his thumb over her swiftly tightening flesh.

"We can't stay in bed all day." Her voice held an uneven quality that brought a smile to his lips.

Removing his hand, he shrugged. "Hope, my dear, springs ever eternal."

"I was thinking…"

He groaned, "When a man's wife tells him she's been thinking, these thoughts do not bode well for said husband."

She pinched his arm lightly.

"Hellcat."

"You deserved that."

"Quite possibly. Alright, in order to protect myself from further onslaughts, I'll bite, what are you thinking about?"

"We should go over to thePeachtree Streethouse."

When he spoke, his voice was flat, without emotion. "What precisely for?"

She knew he was unhappy, but she thrust forward. "I won't be haunted, not by that house. I can not live as a frightened child; huddled under the covers least Tommy Rawhead comes for me."

"Tommy who," Rhett asked, momentarily distracted.

Scarlett laughed, "You, of all people, don't know who Tommy Rawhead is? You pride yourself on knowing everything about everything but finally, here it is, something you are unfamiliar with."

"Congratulations, you've got me. Would you care to educate me, who Tommy Rawhead is?"

"Mammy told me and my sisters about him. When we were small, she told us some hair-raising stories. She knew terrible stories that she took with her fromSavannah. Tommy Rawhead was her favorite haunt. Mind you, I think these stories were more for me than Careen or Sue."

"Ah," there was understanding and something else in his dark eyes, "stories of ghosts roaming the halls at night to keep children from running wild. I take it they were parables for naughty children?"

"Naughty," scoffed Scarlett, not seeing the look in his eyes, "sadly my sisters were almost never naughty. Well, Sue was a brat but life would have been far more exciting were they actually naughty. They were, for the most part, well behaved and eager to please. On the other hand, Mammy knew that I needed a little extra," she smirked, remembering the many merry chases she led Mammy on, "encouragement toward good behavior. Tommy Rawhead is a sort of bogeyman. He lives in dark cupboards, usually under the stairs."

"DidTarapossess such a cupboard?"

"As a matter of fact, it did, right under the attic stairs. It was the perfect door for such a story, a tiny door with an large oval shaped keyhole. Mammy told us, if you were brave enough to peep through the keyhole, you would get a glimpse of Tommy Rawhead. He was a dreadful, crouching creature; a complete horror with blood running down his face."

"That's awful," Rhett said, his jaw tightening slightly, "It's hard to believe Mammy capable of spinning such lurid tales."

"That wasn't the worst part, Tommy Rawhead was seated on a pile of raw bones that had belonged to children who told lies or said bad words."

He gently tugged a lock of her hair. "Which were you, the child who told lies or said bad words?"

"Fiddle dee dee Rhett Butler, what a question."

"Lies then."

"Fibs."

"A rose by any other name…"

"Is whatever I say it is," she replied sweetly.

"And did you ever peek into the cupboard?"

Her expression became somber. "I did."

"And there was Tommy Rawhead, sitting on his pile of devoured children?"

"No."

"What did you find?"

"It was dark, so I could never get a proper look. I tried and tried, once I even took a candle and tried to see what was in the cupboard. My father caught me. After he realized that I wasn't trying to burn down the house, he asked me what I was doing. I told him, that I wanted to know, that I had laid awake every night, afraid that Tommy Rawhead was afoot, waiting for me, for my sisters. They were annoying, but they were mine and I would be dammed—"

"Ah," he laughed triumphantly, "the child who swore makes her appearance."

"Shush, I told him that I needed to face the dark or be left to cry at it. He understood, my father always understood me. Even though it pained him to do it, he opened the door for me. I didn't know then, but I do know now what it cost him."

"What was in the cupboard," he asked softly, his expression serious.

"The layettes and other things that belonged to the baby boys my father and mother had lost. When they realized there would be no more children, they locked up their things in the cupboard under the stairs. No monsters, no hobgoblins, no child devouring demons; just the things that they couldn't bear to see, but couldn't bear to throw away."

"Scarlett—"

"He swore me to secrecy. He made me promise that I would never tell my mother or Mammy that I had seen what was inside the cupboard. I kept that promise. I never told, but after that, I was never afraid again of the dark because I knew no matter how scary I thought the things in the dark could be," she trailed off, thinking for a moment. "I am here, in this town, and I can feel it. It's looming, that house, it's like a monster in a fairy story. I refuse to be afraid of what might be in the dark, not when I can hold up a candle to it."

"It's a house Scarlett, in the end, it's just a house."

"It was our house and I want to see it, one more time."

Running his hand through his thick, dark hair, Rhett sighed. "I would rather not."

She shrugged. "I don't need you to open the cupboard, I'm a big girl, I can do it myself."

"I don't want you there alone."

"Then I'll go with Wade. I know there must be things he still wants from his room."

Rising from the bed, he began to dress. "Where are you going," she asked.

"Where else, Scarlett O'Hara wishes, I fulfill."

She crossed her arms tightly across her chest. "We don't have to go right this minute."

Pulling on his jacket, he glanced at her in the mirror. "It's now or never. The sooner we do this, the sooner it is over. We'll stop at Miss Hamilton's house after and make an offer and then that concludes most of the business you and I have withAtlanta."

"Do you understand or are you just angry? I know you might not be able to see why I want to go, but I want you to understand. I need you to understand why I want to go to the house."

"No, I don't understand. When it comes to you, to the things you want, I so seldom understand. I would like you to look at this from my perspective. I went to that tomb when I was here last to get the things you and the children wanted. I didn't want to go, but I did; for you, for them, because I love you all. I went to spare you, to protect you because I never wanted you to feel what it is I feel in that house."

"Didn't you just say that it's just a house?"

He looked old then and suddenly, she wished above all else that she'd kept her mouth shut. "Rhett, please…"

He silenced her with a look. "It's the house she lived in but, it's also the house she died in, that her brother or sister died in. I'd take a match to it if I thought I could get away with it."

"I've told you that I'm willing to sell it. Before that though, I want to see it one more time. I want to try and…"

"She isn't there Scarlett."

The finality in his words startled her slightly. Shivering lightly, she longed for the warmth of his arms again. His words chilled her heart. "I know that she isn't."

"Then why do we have to do this? Let's go and live our lives, inCharlestonor anywhere you want. Why can't we leave that house and all the misery, all the pain we felt in it behind?"

"I just want to stand where she did one more time," cried Scarlett miserably. "I miss her. I can't believe she's gone and I miss her so much."

"Then tell her everyday, she'll hear you, wherever you are."

"I want to tell her how I feel in a place that she was. I can't see her any more. I close my eyes and she isn't there, none of them are. Its like a curse, no matter how hard I've ever tried, when the people I love are gone, they are just gone. I can't see their faces, I can't hear their voices. I need to say good bye, I want to tell her that I've never forgotten her, that I could never forget her. I want her to know that she is with me every day."

"Alright Scarlett," he said wearily, "alright, we'll go." Helping her out of bed, from behind he wrapped his arms around her slim waist. "Who are we?"

Confusion flooded her face. "What do you mean?"

"Asking each other for understanding, trying to understand one another; it almost makes you long for the days when I would have left you to storm around the room, cursing me."

She turned in his arms. Resting her hands against his chest, she looked up at him. With her hair falling to frame her pale face, she was a Botticelli Madonna brought to life. Reading the appreciation of her beauty in his eyes, she smiled. "I wouldn't have stormed around. I would have broken something."

"Besides that time at Twelve Oaks, how many times have you hurled things across a room?"

"Does shoving Suellen off a sofa count," Scarlett asked ruefully.

"Why did you…no, forget I asked."

'Rest assured, she deserved it."

Laughing, he leaned forward and touched his lips to her gently. "I wonder…"

When he didn't continue, she prompted him, "What? What do you wonder?"

"How different would our lives have been if I had told you that I loved you?"

"Tell me now."

He chuckled softly. "You know now."

"Tell me anyway. Pretend that it's years ago. Tell me you love me."

Brushing her hair back from her brow, his face became severe. "I can't."

Surprise rose in her eye. "Why not?"

"Isn't it obvious? I can't love you; I'm in love with my wife."

She rolled her eyes. "Have I met her?"

Turning her gently toward the mirror, he kissed her lightly on the cheek. "I would say so."

Shaking her head, she laughed softly. "Help me get dressed?"

"I will but I'd like to point out, it's not as much fun as getting you undressed."

"Duly noted."


	152. Through a Glass, darkly

**So, school is over for another year and I am going to dedicate myself to sitting down and really trying to update regularly like I did in the first few years of the story.**

**I've known since the beginning how the story ends and those chapters have been done for 6 long years, wanting to get out and see the world. I need to make that happen. **

**FTE is my fantasy world, a way to share my love of history and another time, my therapy, my sanity, my lifeline when things are there worst. Thank you for giving me the gift of your time and for many, your continued support through both PM's and reviews. Many of the reviews have been positive and sometimes critical, forcing me to look at my writing again and again, forcing me to push myself further.**

**Thank you every one of you for your time and hope you will continue to follow my story to it's end..**

**Hilton, it was an unsigned review so I could not respond but your review raised an interesting point which I would like to counter. while Mammy did tell Rhett about her stories of haunts, she told him when he was drinking to excess and swallowed by grief in the first few days after Bonnie's death while he was locked in her room with her body.**

**He told her that he knew she loved his child and that love made everything all right. I remember the first time I read that, I got the feeling he wasn't really listening to her confession but at the same time, he didn't want Mammy to hurt over it.**

**Hearing Scarlett talk about the stories she was told as a child, I think it triggered a flash to that time in his life and the realization as to just how scary the "old stories" can be to children. Scarlett in the end had the time to grow enough to confront the monsters in the night, Bonnie died before reaching that developmental milestone. I believe that this stage of their lives together is forcing him to realize just how strong Scarlett really has always been. She always faces the monsters in the dark, no matter the price to herself.**

**I think it explains the female love affair so many fans have with Scarlett; her strength and ability to go on no matter what the cost to her pride and ego. Readers sometimes accuse fanfiction writers of being out of character when Scarlett shows any personal realizations or growth. I believe she was growing in the end of the novel by finally putting aside childish things. The following, from Corinthians 13, always makes me think of Scarlett and the end of Gone with the Wind.**

**_"When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. 12 For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known."_**

**Scarlett starts the novel at 16 and ends at 28. Very few of us can play Peter Pan forever, no matter how much we'd like to or how hard we try.**

* * *

It was quiet in the entrance hall of the garishly decorated mansion, in another time, in another life it had been their home. Being "home" conjured no warm feelings in her breast. This was no homecoming; this was goodbye to everything she thought she would once have as Scarlett Butler, wife to one of the wealthiest men she'd ever known. This house, she thought, as she almost reluctantly crossed the threshold; this was to be the house that everyone would turn pea green with envy over. In exchange for her body and a commitment, Rhett allowed her free reign to build this monstrosity. He'd goaded her, teased her, encouraged her to run loose and headlong into building a joke of a house but, in the end, she assumed full responsibility for this architectural nightmare.

It was so quiet that it seemed to Scarlett as though the great house was empty. It had to be empty. Nothing vital and alive could be in this place. This house, she looked down at the floor, even the blood red carpet in the foyer seemed to mock her. How could this be her home, how could she have turned from everything she'd found beautiful once upon a time to build this monstrosity.

Time spent inCharleston, time spent in the homes of women like her mother, like the late Mrs. Wilkes, like all the women in the county whose homes she'd been a caller in before the war, that time had begun to undo the damage wrought by poverty and deprivation. Time spent in Eleanor Butler's company, a woman with tastes similar to those of Ellen's made her look with new eyes at the house that was meant to be a showpiece. It was not a home. It was a house, an eerie one at that. That it belonged to her, that she'd caused this place to be built, her stomach twisted, knotting painfully.

Shame. She could easily identify the feeling that was sweeping through her though she seldom felt ashamed for anything she'd done in her life. Well, she corrected herself, generally not at the time of the doing.

Oh Mother, her heart cried out. Mother, thank God you aren't here, you'd be so embarrassed, so ashamed of me. I just wanted something after having nothing but I was caught up in it all and then everything turned out so wrong. I did everything wrong. How did I go so wrong? I wanted to be like you and I'm just wrong. I thought that I had accepted that we were different, but looking at this house, how could I have been so confused about what would make me happy?

A soft hitch in her breathing attracted Rhett's attention. Not wanting to confide the secret pain in her heart to him, she turned away. Drawing her gloved fingertips across the exposed top of the Queen Anne chair just to the right of the front door, she glanced at the tips of her fingers. There wasn't a speck of dust to be seen and no cobwebs draped the archways. The other richly upholstered chairs, identical to the one she had just touched in the front hall were draped in heavy white canvas to protect the fine fabric against dust and sunlight.

She found the house stifling. It was pressing down on her, a weight sitting squarely on the middle of her chest. She glanced from beneath lowered lids to see if the house affected Rhett the same way it did her. No, though his jaw was tight and there was nothing in his dark eyes except resignation, he seemed not to notice the oppressive air to the house. It seemed she alone was suffocating.

The air in the house had a taste to it; dusty, dry and stale. It had been a long time since windows had been open to the softGeorgiabreezes that would have banished the stench of death and decay that seemed to radiate from the house. Glancing toward the heavy drapes, drawn across the foyer windows, she idly wondered how long it had been since sunlight had shone through those windows, had it ever? It was difficult to remember now, as if the life of the Scarlett that lived in this house belonged to a stranger.

In all, the house had a closed up feeling that could be achieved only by being abandoned by the living. The ghosts of their former life lingered, fragile specters that flitted just beyond the dim, weak glow of the one gaslight that illuminated the front hall.

Red, blue, and golden yellow tinted sunlight spilled through the stained glass windows at the head of the stairs, the only natural light to breach the tomb. It softly illuminated the top few steps of the grand staircase that led from the front hall to the second story gallery hall. The multi-hued light did nothing to dispel the shadowy gloom cast by sadness and neglect. They were shadows made not by banishing the light but by a lack of life.

"I hate this house," she admitted aloud, whispering softly.

"What was that," Rhett asked, his own voice pitched low.

Looking up the broad expanse of stairs leading to the pitch black second floor, Scarlett stifled a sneeze. "You may love your wife, but surely you'll admit, she has awful taste."

That brought a brief, but reluctant smirk. "No arguments here."

Shivering, she drew closer to him, "It's so cold in here. I actually think its colder in here than it is outside. I don't think I remember it being like this, was it?"

"None of the fireplaces have been lit in ages."

"What about the heating system," asked Scarlett petulantly, "as I recall, it was a fortune to put that damned thing in, do you think it isn't working?"

"I doubt the staff has thought it worth loading with coal to fire it up. It is a skeleton crew at best; several groundskeepers, more for security than grounds keeping, a cook, and a few maids. One of the maids has a son, he's fairly young, or so I gather. She spoke to Henry Hamilton about him. She wanted to know if he could work in the house. Henry wrote to me and I agreed. He is helping with chores."

Shaking her head, she sighed softly. "It's strange, to think of there being so few people working in the house when it used to be a small army."

Rhett shrugged, his large shoulders lightly straining the fabric of his overcoat. "I didn't want to leave the house empty. Even if many of the furnishings aren't to my taste, they are still valuable. It seemed impractical to maintain a full staff, there's perhaps ten or twelve people now, including the groundskeepers."

"Should we have told someone we were coming?" In different circumstances, she would have laughed at the superior expression on his face, the one she secretly thought of as his "Rhett Look."

"Though I'd rather we didn't own it, it's still our house. We're entitled to be here."

"Still, I wouldn't want to just bump into anyone, I think I'd have a fit." Turning toward the hall that lead back to the kitchen, Scarlett cupped her hands over her mouth. "Hello," she called loudly, "is anyone here?"

Before the last the echo faded away, snapped Rhett. "Don't do that again."

His tone was sharp. In his clipped tone, she imagined he was once again chastising her for bad behavior. Reactions ingrained over long periods of time are hard to overcome. The great strides Scarlett had made inCharlestontoward controlling her temper fell to the wayside, pushed aside by indignation. Who was he to speak to her that way, she thought furiously. There was condemnation in words, she had heard it, she was sure of it! "Please, do excuse me," she said haughtily, but really, there is no need to snap at me."

Deliberately ignoring the hostility in her voice, he moved away from her side. "You are excused, now if we could come down to business, we are here, where is it that you want to go?"

She gestured toward the stairs, "Upstairs." Upstairs was the playroom where Bonnie had spent so much of her short life. The idea of visiting the backyard where her life ended so abruptly was nauseating to Scarlett. At the time she'd left forCharlestonthe grass that once covered the little ring where she'd ridden her pony had nearly grown back in, erasing further proof that a little girl named Bonnie Butler had existed.

After the last few days of stress and high emotions, her hip was throbbing dully. Trust Jason Cross to be right, she thought angrily. Overexerting her body was affecting her recovery, who would think he was telling the truth after all? She had assumed he was just trying to scare her. Moving toward the stairs, she grasped the banister tightly, her foot hovering above the first step.

Gently, he caught her by the elbow. "No."

"Don't be ridiculous," she tugged her arm, but he held her fast.

"I said no."

Disbelief spread across her face, followed swiftly by anger. "Let me loose. I want to go upstairs and look around, it won't take long."

"You can't manage those stairs," he said quietly, ignoring her angry struggles, "I would rather you didn't try."

"I would rather you turn me loose," she tried to pull away, but his grasp was unbreakable.

In the dim light of the hall, his sharp features were heavily shadowed. She did not look away even though her heart was pounding against her ribcage. "My dear, very few of us get what we want in life. For example, I wanted a life in which you took the phrase love, honor, and obey to heart. Really, not such an extreme hope considering the price I paid for you."

"That's absurd, you didn't buy me and you certainly don't own me."

He let go of her arm, but caught her by the wrist before she could move away. Pulling her glove off to expose her left hand, he smirked. "The ring on your finger and the laws in this country seem to think differently." Seeing the wounded look on her face, he tried to step back from the resentment and anger she and this house stirred in him. When he spoke, his voice was now gentle, "Let's stop this, please. I love you, I- -"

She was too angry to take a peace offering now. "Love doesn't make you my master Rhett Butler."

"Nor does it make me your slave," he replied calmly.

It was the calm, self assured quality to his voice that pushed her over the edge. It felt so close to his old mocking ways, the cool way he was speaking to her. She could feel her cheeks flush. The heat, that boiling, raging anger she so often felt during her dealings with Rhett was rising through her body, banishing the chill she'd felt only moments before. "I told you what it was I wanted to do, if I can't go upstairs, then why did you agree to come here?"

"You wanted to say good bye to our daughter, I can appreciate that need. I agreed to facilitate that. You cannot manage those damn stairs. To be frank, I didn't agree to see you…"

"Fall down them and break my neck," she questioned, her tone icy. "Well, there is a first time for everything." She considered her words and laughed sharply. "And that first time has already come and gone, I should be safe."

Letting go of her arm, he stepped back. "Go upstairs if it's so damned important to you."

"It is," she shouted. Her words echoed causing them both to cringe. "Come with me," she asked, her voice subdued.

He shook his head. "Not for all the gold in the world."

Her shoulders squared, she shrugged. "I won't be long."

Watching her slowly ascend into the gloom above, he waited until she reached the middle landing before allowing a smirk to settle on his lips. "Is there a problem my dear?"

The sound of a swear word muttered softly just reached his ears. "I can't see a damned thing, it's pitch black up there."

"Is it now?" His voice was smug, "You best come down then."

He was such a superior bastard sometimes, she thought. The games they played with each other, when would they end? Would they ever end? He had been here last month. He must have known she could not navigate the upstairs but still, he let her go. Why? To punish her? To prove a point? The whys of Rhett Butler made her head ache. "No matter," she called, her voice light and sweet, "would you get me a lamp, there used to be one in my study, it's probably still on-."

"No."

She turned and even in the dim light, he could see the rigid set to her square jaw, the anger blazing clearly in her eyes. "You think you've won, but you haven't. We can go to the Wilkes; I'll just have Henry send word over in the morning that I am coming to walk the house. The staff, what's left of them, can light the lamps before I arrive. I'll bring Wade along, you needn't worry, we'll manage." Turning, she came back down the stairs, slowly and careful, aware of her aching muscles and throbbing hip.

"You've overdone it again." It was a statement, not a  
question.

She was too drained to continue to bait and battle with him. "I suppose so," she admitted reluctantly. "Every time I think I feel better, I don't."

"Because you push yourself constantly, you need to take things slowly."

"Good evening sir, I'm Scarlett Butler, have we met before?" A faint smile shaped her still kiss bruised lips. "You know me better than that."

He smiled back, he did know her, better than she knew herself. "May we please leave this tomb?"

"I will be back tomorrow," she told him quietly, not to antagonize him but to assure him of a certainty.

"I'm sure you will be."

"Are you angry?"

"No."

"Are you lying," she asked.

"Through my teeth," he said, opening the heavy front door before gesturing her forward.

* * *

**Could not have written this chapter without info from theGiffordParkassociation webpage. The section about home construction, heating, and lighting in homes built at the time the Peachtree House was built was invaluable.**


	153. Oh What a web we weave

**Why look, another chapter and it hasn't been 6 months. Fantastic.**

**Did a lot of research for what's in this chapter and coming up in the next and I feel that my storyline idea is valid and the laws of the time support it.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Smiling sweetly, she finished, "It would mean so much to Wade, and it's a wonderful opportunity for you and Beau to get a fresh start."

"No."

"No?" Asked Scarlett, aghast.

"No Scarlett. It's very generous, but no is my answer."

His refusal ripped the sweet, bland mask from her face. It had seemed so easy, in her mind. Offer Ashley a very generous sum for Beau's share in Pitty's house, make small talk, and then go back to the hotel. Instead, Ashley had destroyed it all with a single word, no.

A blazing wave of irrational fury ran through her. After everything he'd done to ruin her life over the years; from leading her to believe he loved her to encouraging her toward stupidity time and again; even now he was going to continue to be difficult. "My offer is more than twice what Beau's share is worth," she said, trying to keep her voice even. "You would be a fool to refuse."

He shrugged awkwardly. "Then I am a fool Scarlett, this house was where Melanie was a child. There is precious little of her left as it is. I cannot give away the little bit Beau and I have of her."

"I'm not asking you to give it away, I am offering..."

"Something very generous," he interrupted, "but there is no amount of money—"

Her eyes flashed dangerously; still, she was able to keep her voice even. "What about Beau's education, what amount of money is that worth? If you loved Melly enough to want to keep Beau's share of this house because of her, you should love her son enough to want to provide an education for him."

There was a brief flicker of something in his dull gray eyes but it was gone before she could properly scrutinize it. "Scarlett, please. I gave you my answer and I must ask you to respect that. Don't try to use my love for my family to achieve your ends, no matter how noble the motivation might be." His grey eyes regarded her sternly. "It's not becoming of you," he reprimanded gently.

She smiled, but there was no warmth or tenderness in her expression. "Isn't it lucky for me that I needn't concern myself about what you do and don't think becoming. Wade wants to own this house; I want him to have what ever he wants."

"Children can't always have what they want Scarlett."

The brittle smile faded. Her eyes darkened to a deep, bottle green. "I entirely agree. I've come to realize in the last few years, it's maddening when children can't make up their minds about what it is they want, when they try to have their cake and eat it too."

He blanched at her pointed reference to their past. Glancing toward Rhett, Ashley saw nothing but polite indifference toward their exchange. Uncle Henry, on the other hand, looked troubled by the antagonistic direction their conversation was rapidly taking.

It was a side to her that Ashley sometimes forgot existed. In recent years it had been easy to forget how vicious and unforgiving she could be when moved to anger; her impromptu marriage to his cousin Charlie when he would not return her declaration of love was proof enough of how far she would carry a grudge.

When she became angry, Scarlett was seldom inclined to cloak her feelings. It would be best to mollify her, before she said things they might both regret.

"Now Scarlett, please. I understand why Wade feels he needs this house. He is grieving for his great aunt. It is understandable that he wants to hold on to something familiar. He wants something that reminds him of Pitty but that does not mean you should just go and get it for him."

This time there was sentiment in her smile. He amused her; he could see it in the arch set of her brows, in the smug way the corners of her lips twisted up in a familiar half smile, though how it was familiar, he could not say. "I suppose I must tell the truth and shame the devil. He wants this house because he doesn't want anyone who disrespected his mother to live in it."

"I apologize for India's behavior, I hope you'll excuse—"

"There's no excuse for India so stop trying to make one for her." She paused briefly. Never before had she seen so much misery in anyone's face, except possibly the day at Twelve Oaks when she confessed her love to him. Thinking back to that day only ignited her simmering temper. "Ashley Wilkes, do you care at all for your son, for his future? Stop hiding in the past, sell this house, buy a new one and get a new start." She took a breath, trying to reel back the caustic words that threatened to bubble from her lips. "You do care what happens to Beau, don't you?"

"Yes," he said listlessly. "I care but I don't appreciate this mercenary behavior. Honestly, the way you are acting, I'd ask you to leave if you didn't own the other half of this house." She sucked in a breath, looking as if he'd struck her, plunging ahead before she could speak again, he continued, "As it is, I've been meaning to ask you for the past few days, but I wanted to wait for a better time-"

"Ask me what," she cried angrily, oblivious to everything save her own rapidly beating heart.

"I wanted to ask you, since you act as the executor of Charlie's estate-"

"For heaven's sake Ashley Wilkes, just come to the point and say what's on your mind!"

He looked slightly flustered in the face of her outburst but then he shrugged lightly. "I'd like to buy Wade's share of this house from you."

If he had screamed a profanity at her, she could not have been more stunned. Her lips twisted but she had been rendered speechless. How dare he, she thought, how could he be so selfish?

"Scarlett," Ashley continued, "I didn't want to raise the matter at a time like this, but you've forced my hand."

"From previous experience, that's not the first time that's happened," she snarled softly.

"Scarlett, stop it," pleaded Ashley.

She heard Rhett chuckle softly. He was no doubt amused by this completely awful scene, just as he'd been amused by eavesdropping on them years ago in the library at Twelve Oaks. She would have loved to tell him to wipe the faint, twisty smile off his lips but it was all she could do to focus on how angry she was with Ashley. "You want to buy Wade's share, with what money?"

At the mention of money, he looked pained. "I was wrong to bring this up, I think we should wait to discuss this, why don't we forget that about it, for now?"

"No," she replied, her voice becoming dangerously calm. "I won't forget about it. I made a promise to my son that I would have this settled for him before we went back to Charleston. I mean to keep my promise, you know that about me, don't you? I always keep my promises. You won't sell?"

He replied, shaking his head, "I'm cannot. I will not. For the sake of Melly's memory, I won't."

The rage that had been threatening to consume her began to spread. The emotions unleashed by her quarrel with Rhett earlier at the Peachtree House had not yet abated and now, in the face of Ashley's stupid obstinacy, she could feel the lid being ripped from her gunpowder temper. Taking a deep breath, she desperately sought to calm herself.

She came back to herself to find that he was still speaking, saying things-things that made no sense about a sense of nostalgia and the past. Her mind was quite blank, empty of all thoughts save one, securing Beau's share of Pitty's house.

She would be the first to admit she had never been very good at understanding people and their tendencies to hold on to pieces of the past. In rare circumstance, she could and previously had forced herself to try to see things from another's point of view.

For her son, she could understand and appreciate the feelings a home and the land it stood on could inspire in the same sway over her that apparently Pitty's house did over her son.

The sound of Melanie's name caught her, dragging her back to the conversation. She looked into his crystal-gray eyes, eyes that had once haunted her. She saw in them the old remoteness that had always baffled her but now, she no longer cared if she ever understood him. "You understand, don't you?"

"No, I don't understand," she shouted.

"Scarlett," said Uncle Henry, raising his voice, "enough."

"No Henry, not enough. He is being absurd. I am making him an offer that he should take, but he will not. Why don't you talk some sense into him?"

"Please Scarlett," beseeched Uncle Henry.

Even in the midst of anger, she could see the way their arguing was affecting the old man; he looked panicked and as the argument turned into a fight, he was growing a little frantic. It was probably the sight of them, the widow and widower of Charles and Melly; the parents of his beloved great-nephews, arguing in his late sister's home. To a man who valued family as Henry did, what they were doing now must be appalling.

"He doesn't want to sell," said Henry firmly, a fine sheen of sweat glistening on his wrinkled brow. "Let it be, at least for now. We can try to sort this out later. Be fair."

She did not want to be fair. There was no profit in it for her to be fair. What she wanted was what she promised Wade. Although she knew Uncle Henry was simply trying to keep the peace, she still felt as though he were taking Ashley's side.

Years of marrying their kin had all but ruined the Wilkes' family, thought Scarlett angrily. Ashley was so weak, had he always been this way, so weak and ineffective? Yes! He could have stopped India from running to half of Atlanta if he had only put his foot down.

If he had only asserted himself as the patriarch of the Wilkes family, then most of what happened after he comforted her at the mill would have never happened. He could have sent India to Honey. That would have been a solution to all the trouble, have gone, like it or not, if her brother ordered her. He was the man, the patriarch of the Wilkes family. Though she was loath to admit it, even she had occasionally bowed to Rhett's will because, as he had once authoritatively asserted, "There would never be any doubt who wore the pants in the Butler family."

Yes, he had allowed India to shame them both, to humiliate them in the eyes of the Old Guard. Any other man would have put his foot down and stopped her from ruining them both, but not Ashley Wilkes. He was weak. She had known that long before falling out of love with him. Someone had once told her that Melly was the strength of the Wilkes family, that she and not Ashley would see the Wilkes family through the aftermath of the war. Why hadn't she listened?

She ran after him for years. He never really loved her, that was clear now. He might have wanted to sleep with her, but he never cared for her heart and mind. He almost cost her the love of her life. And what would she have exchanged that love for, a love that was nothing more than an illusion. Oh, but she hated him in this moment, hated him more than anyone on earth, hated him even more than India or her sister Sue…if that were even possible.

It would have been far better if she had followed Ellen and Mammy's precepts and never revealed that she even remotely cared for him. Shame coupled with fury scorched her face a brilliant shade of red. If only she'd kept her foolish mouth shut.

She struggled to her feet, one hand tightly twisted into the fabric of her black skirts, the other hand clenched around the head of her cane. The anger raging inside of her had finally reached its boiling point.

She wanted to slap him, to leave a sure sign of her anger branded on his pale, fine boned, aristocratic face. Nothing else would assuage her anger, nothing! Yes, she would slap him; Henry and pride be damned. This slap was a long time coming, the end product of many bitter and angry years. This was the second time she would lay hands on him. If he'd forgotten the slap in the library at Twelve Oaks, well this time he would never forget, for she would brand his face for some time to come…

Seeing the rage in her eyes and knowing her as he did; Ashley rose swiftly, towering over her. "Scarlett…"

Hearing her name, she exploded. "Not another word, I hate you and I will until the day I die. You claim you were my friend, you claim you care about Wade. No, I know now you never were my friend and you don't give a damn about my son. You don't know how to really care for anyone. I can not think of any word bad enough to call you except a ba—"

He reached out to take her arm "Scarlett-please—don't say any more-"

He was next to them before either realized he had risen from his chair. "Mister Wilkes," drawled Rhett softly, "it would appear my wife has something to say to you. I suggest you sit down and let her finish."

"Captain Butler, this is a family matter," countered Ashley, "it's really none of your business."

Rhett studied Ashley in that cool, calculated, impertinent way of his that Scarlett was only too familiar with. Her stomach clenched briefly as her previous anger dissipated. Funerals could often be counted on to bring out the worst in families but if Rhett struck Ashley, none of them would ever live it down. This evening would haunt them all for years to come, especially their children. Wade, Ella, and Beau didn't deserve to suffer even more because of the faults of their parents.

Rhett's voice was controlled; leaving no room for an argument. "Scarlett is my wife, that bond makes Scarlett and her family my business."

She looked at him, her expression softening, despite their harsh words to one another at the house; he was still keeping his word. He had promised to defend her to anyone who criticized her in his hearing. Now, to see him, keeping his word to her, it moved her deeply. "I'm sorry," she said, softly, "so very sorry, for everything."

He smiled, knowing what making apologies cost her; he appreciated it all the more. "There's nothing to be sorry for."

"I disagree, there's a great deal to be sorry for. Do you forgive me?"

He reached into the folds of her skirt and gently, pressing her hand, made her release her death grip on her skirt. Lifting it to his lips, he kissed the flesh between her knuckle and wedding ring. When he spoke again, it was not to her. "Mister Wilkes, it seems we are at an impasse. Scarlett promised Wade something, I would like to see her fulfill her promise. There must be something you would take in exchange for Beau's share, think carefully, what can we offer you?"

"I am sorry that she made a promise, but I don't want to sell. That is my final word." A slight smile curved his lips.

"Do you find something amusing Mister Wilkes? Feel free to share, it's been a long day, I am sure we could all do with a laugh."

"It's nothing really," replied Ashley quietly. "I once told Scarlett that I could not see what the two of you had in common. Standing here now, I finally see the similarities."

Her head came up. "Like must marry like or there will be no happiness," echoed in her ears as though the words had been spoken aloud. It seemed a million years since she had heard that, but it made sense.

Her father had told her that, while warning her to stay away from Ashley. He had been right, so very right on both counts. Ashley Wilkes was wrong for her, he always had been. In order to find happiness, she had needed to marry someone life her. She and Rhett complemented each other, two halves made whole.

"Really," said Scarlett, smiling slightly, "well—"

Henry spoke over her, swiftly interrupting her. "Please, enough. Just stop it, all of you. It's enough. There isn't anything to fight over. If Ashley does not want to sell his share to you Scarlett, that's just the way of it. Please accept his decision."

"It's silly though," she countered angrily, "by rights Charlie and then Wade should have inherited the house. This should not even be an issue. I don't understand what you brother was thinking, how can anyone share a house is beyond me."

Henry looked pained. For a minute, guilt surged through her. God's nightgown, she thought, please don't let me have upset him badly enough for him to have a heart attack. If he did, everyone would blame her if the events leading up to it got out. "

His voice was firm, belying his appearance. "I am sorry if that upsets you, but I think we need to respect my late brother and the way he chose to dictate his affairs."

"Now Mist'ah Henry, th't was'n how Mis'tah William wanted things." Peter stood in the doorway, glasses and a pitcher resting on the tray he carried. "I reco'n that was'n the way he set it a'tall."

Henry's shaggy brows rose, surprise at the interruption clear in his indignant expression. "I'm sure that I remember the stipulations and bequests in my own brother's will Peter."

"Tha' don't seem so Mis'tah Henry."

"How do you remember it Peter," Rhett asked quietly.

"Oh Lord in heaven, what does it matter how Peter remembers it," blustered Henry.

Turning to Henry, Rhett searched the old gentleman's face. It was obvious he was disappointed in what he found. "It matters to me. Please continue Peter, how should the property have been divided?"

Peter sighed. "I di'n wanna say, but this is wrong. Mis'tah Wade deserve what his granddaddy wanted him to have. Mis'tah William left the house to Mis'tah Charles. His will said Miz Pitty could live in the hou's for the rest'a her life. Miz Melly too, till she married. If she need to, she could live in't for her life. Mis'tah Robert neva meant the house to be spilt 'tween the chil'ren. Didn't need ta, Miz Melly wuz always meant ta marry Mis'tah Ashley. She wuz gonna move out ta Twleve Oaks."

His eyes never leaving Henry's face, Rhett asked, "Scarlett, have you ever actually seen the late Colonel Hamilton's will or Charles Hamilton's for that matter?"

"How dare you sir," roared Henry before Scarlett could speak. "Are you really suggesting that I tried to steal Scarlett and Wade's inheritance?"

His dark face was hard, unreadable. "I'm not suggesting anything of the sort."

"Then sir, I—"

"I am flat out saying that I believe there is more to this admission of Peter's. Tell us Henry, what did you do? I do not think you appropriated for profit. I would never believe you capable of such a misdeed. I do think you might have done what you thought necessary to protect the Hamilton interest. What you've done, I believe was done in the interest of that sacred trust."

"Rhett," said Scarlett, trying to defuse emotions in the room. "It doesn't matter. I never thought I would say it, but whatever it is, it doesn't matter. If Henry did something, it's because he believed it to be for the best. If it's as Peter says, then in the end it will sort itself out."

"Do you truly believe that," Rhett asked, "that it doesn't matter?"

"Well of course I don't really believe that," snapped Scarlett, "but he's Wade's family." Studying Henry, she looked closely as though seeing him for the first time. "Whatever he's done, Henry is a man of conscience, let him deal with himself."

Uncle Henry fidgeted, not meeting Scarlett's troubled gaze. "I did what I did because of you," said Henry abruptly.


	154. Forgiveness

_First a few notes and such_

_To a few of the readers who questioned whether Scarlett or Wade would have cared about Pitty's house, I believe they would have. To be fair, Scarlett cares largely because Wade does and because Ashley told her no. _

_On the other hand, why does Wade care? That's easy. This boy has lived a rollercoaster life. He was born at Tara then raised in Atlanta by a flock of women without a father. His family is run out of Atlanta by the Yankee Army in something that must have seemed a nightmare. He starves. He is nearly burned out of his home. He then goes back to Atlanta when his mother remarries. In a short span of time he gains a sister, his stepfather dies, his mother remarries, he moves, he gains a new sister, his mother falls, his sister dies, his aunt dies, his stepfather leaves...and that doesn't include the hell I put him through at Sue's hand._

_This house is the constant. For Wade, this house is his lighthouse. Lighthouses mark dangerous coastlines and hazardous shoals. A lighthouse marks entries to safe harbors. Pitty's house is his safe harbor. I think he wants and needs to know it exists in case the fairy tale he is living in ceases to exist. He wants a place that belongs to him and that he can belong to. It is a house that holds many happy memories for him. I understand how he feels._

_To other readers, I know Henry seemed harsh the last few chapters, but these are actions he took years ago when he didn't know Scarlett. We reap what we sow, sometimes it just takes a long time for the crops to come to fruition._

_Finally, Scarlett has definitely grown as a person. It's something many of us do, often without even realizing the extent of our growth. That being said, in the world there are some people you just can't stand. I have several people in my own life that I've known since we were in children but that to this day, drive me completely around the bend. Five minutes, no witnesses, and the element of surprise; it's not that much to ask._

_There are just some people you will despise until your dying day. India is that person for Scarlett._

I apologize, words keep running together when I try and upload this. Try and ignore it, thank you.

* * *

Uncle Henry fidgeted, not meeting Scarlett's troubled gaze. "I did what I did because of you," said Henry abruptly.

"Me?" Scarlett shook her head, "You lied to everyone because of me? Frankly, I don't understand. I just don't understand," she repeated, shaking her head, "and I won't pretend that I do."

Henry looked away from her penetrating green eyes. "None of us knew you," he said softly.

"That's not true," she swiftly countered, "I'd met Aunt Pitty several times at Twelve Oaks and when Pa would bring me to town. As for Melly and Charlie, I had known them for years. "

"Alright, I didn't know you. I didn't know your character. I didn't know what kind of woman you might be. I knew very little about your family except that your mother came from a fine family and that your father was a self-made man. All of these about you were great unknowns. Charles died before we could see what—"

"It wasn't my fault that he died," she burst out.

"I never said it was," replied Henry quickly. His hands were shaking as he pulled his handkerchief from his pocket. Wiping beads of sweat from his brown, he continued; his voice trembling. "I was afraid that you might be difficult, I thought you might not get along with our family. In my nightmares, I imagined that you might take it in your head to evict Pitty and Melly."

The blood drained from her face. "Are you insane," she said quietly, "I only ask because if you have gone mad, I will try to treat you with the kindness your condition would deserve."

"I was in a very difficult position Scarlett, if you could only—"

"If I could only what? If I could only see that you thought I was going to throw Charlie's family into the street like stay dogs? For the love of God, my mother was Ellen Robillard O'Hara, didn't you consider that? Even if you thought I might be a monster, how could you think she would condone me doing something like that?"

Shaking with emotion, Henry's voice rose to meet Scarlett's. "It wasn't just that. I wasn't sure if your father would insist on selling your Atlanta property. Pitty and Melly would not have had any recourse. I didn't know what else to do. I swear to you, it wasn't going to be forever. I meant to one day make it all right when it came time for Wade to manage the property."

Ashley looked up, unexpectedly he spoke out, his expression tense and angry. "And instead, you thought that you would hurt Beau by taking what he thought was his inheritance from Melly."

Henry reeled back as if he'd been struck. "Beau wasn't even born when I did this," cried the old man.

"You leave him alone Ashley," snapped Scarlett, "this doesn't concern you."

"It does concern me. I want to know something, did you ever consider that Melly might one day have children? When she did, when she had Beau, why didn't you tell the truth then?"

Henry blotted his now streaming face with his handkerchief. The elderly man's color was poor and his hands shook badly. "As time went on, I didn't see any sense in coming forward. They were all happy here during the war. It warmed my heart to see my sister as happy as she was. She was so happy when Scarlett came with Wade. And after the war? After the war, Scarlett and Frank were living here with Pitty and that made my sister happy. She was happy to have them here. It was only when India started a stir over you and Scarlett that problems arose. Melly asked her to leave your house and India presumed on Pitty. Why Pitty took her in, I will never know."

"Better she should have left her on the street," asked Ashley quietly.

"Don't be theatrical. She could have gone to your sister Honey. I thought she should have." Turning back to Scarlett, he looked as if he would drop where he stood. "I could have never told then. Scarlett. You were so angry with my sister." The eyes that looked beseechingly into hers were red rimmed and bloodshot, "Scarlett, you withdrew your financial support because India was under this roof. If you'd known that you owned this house in Toto, would you have thrown Pitty out to punish India? I admit it, I wasn't sure."

Slipping from her grasp, Scarlett's cane clattered loudly on the hardwood floor. She was unsteady on her feet, but through sheer strength of will, she stood her ground. "That's the second time in ten minutes you've accused me of being capable of that. You hear me Henry Hamilton, and never forget it. I would have never thrown Pitty out on the street. I knew all along that you were giving her money. If you hadn't been, I guess I would have had to bend. Damn you for thinking otherwise, I would have given in. Wade loved her. Hell, I loved her. I wouldn't have thrown her out, no matter how much I hate India."

"How was I to know that Scarlett?"

"I don't know," she cried out angrily, "I was mad Henry, I was just furious that she'd let someone as ungrateful and mean as India live here after the lies she'd spread around town about her own brother. I wanted her to take my side and letting India live here made it clear whose side she was on."

Henry balled up his handkerchief, jamming in back in his pocket. "It broke her heart that you and Melly were so angry with her. When Melly died without making things right, it tore out her heart. She loved and lost Charlie and then Melly. She loved both of them. She loved them as if they had been her own. She loved you too and I know she missed you when you left forCharleston. She told me that she hoped you and Rhett could…" Henry bowed his head. "She just wanted you to be happy."

The anger drained from her, leaving her feeling wrung out by the emotions that battled in her breast. "I know that Henry."

Looking toward his feet, he sighed deeply. "I never meant to hurt anyone Scarlett, you must believe that. Tell me you do, please? Tell me you believe me."

"I still don't understand all of this," offered Scarlett softly. "You value the truth so highly, how could you do this?"

"I think you do understand, deep down. I did what because I loved her. It's that simple. I did what I did because I knew it would kill Pitty to have to leave this house. No matter what anyone thought, she was my little sister and I loved her." His eyes clouded. "I loved her dearly; for all her silly, prattling ways. I just wanted to ensure that she could always stay here. Dear little Sarah Jane, she used to run about the house with our mammy chasing her. My sweet, silly little sister; pitter pattering through the house. When our mother died, the last thing she said to me after telling me she loved me, she asked me to watch over little Pittypat. She begged me to watch the baby. She was such a baby, no matter how old she grew; so harmless and utterly without malice. I did watch over her, as best I could. I would have done anything for her. I don't know if she knew that."

He bowed his head.

Then the tears began to fall. In that terrible moment, watching the formerly gruff and self-assured Henry Hamilton cry, Scarlett would have done anything to turn the clock back. No house was worth seeing the stalwart Henry Hamilton break down. The thought shocked her a little but she could not deny the validity of it. Watching him cry as he spoke of her love and devotion to his sister, it broke her heart.

"Oh Henry, I—"

"No. Let me say this, please. Now that she is gone, it was time for the truth to come out. I should have told you, I am ashamed of myself. It should have been me to tell you, not Peter. After what I have done, I do not expect you to forgive me but please, don't keep Wade from writing me. It's the only pleasure an old man like me has, those letters are practically all I have to look forward to."

It clawed at her heart, seeing how deeply sorrowful the old man facing her looked. In any other time, the idea of anyone stealing property from her would have aroused an unholy anger in her breast but how could she be angry with Henry Hamilton of all people?

Suddenly, it was there before her, as fresh in her mind as though it had happened only yesterday; that long ago afternoon when she and Mammy had come to Atlanta to beg, borrow, or in the end, marry the money to preserve Tara.

She could remember them passing the ruins of the warehouse that Charles had left her. Uncle Henry had paid the taxes on the property for her, for her son. He had paid it so they could retain something out of the fortune that Charlie had left for his family.

She'd vowed to repay that money. When her finances improved, she offered, but he shrugged her off. To have an outstanding debt in the neat ledger in which she tallied life hadn't sat well with her. She did not know how she could repay him then, now knowing that there were things more valuable than money she offered him the one thing he would value the most.

She offered him forgiveness.

Stepping carefully forward, she rested one small hand on his forearm. Leaning forward, she kissed him gently on the cheek. She heard his sharp intake of breath as he battled to keep back tears. "Henry Hamilton," she said fondly, "you are a fool. Truly, I know you are. I know because it takes a fool to know one."

"Can you forgive me? In your heart, can you forgive me?"

She smiled softly. "Who paid the taxes on this house after the war Henry?"

He looked up at her, confusion clear in his gray eyes. "I did, you know that."

"Ah, so I did. Remind me, who paid the taxes on the property where the warehouses stood? Who paid the taxes and then in the bargain, took care of Pitty and those who depended on her, like Peter and the others?"

"I did."

"And when I tried to pay back all that money, when I started to make money off the mills and again whenTarafinally began to show a profit, when I tried to repay that debt, who refused to take a dime from me? Who told me that they preserved everything so that my son and I would have something left of Charlie's? Remind me, who was that Henry?"

"It was me Scarlett."

"Then I forgive you." Taking his hand, she squeezed it gently. "You are my son's family. You are my family and in the end, that's what matters. Our family."

He squeezed her hand back. "Thank you," he whispered softly.

"You're welcome."

"Will you see me out my dear?"

Standing on the front steps, she watched him trudge wearily down the path and into the darkness. She stood, watching him, looking after him until he disappeared into the night. Then, with a faint smile, she went inside to tell India Wilkes to get the hell out of her son's house.


	155. At long last

_So, for those who have asked, we are coming to the end of our time in Atlanta. I wouldn't be surprised if a certain Doctor has been busy in the absence of our favorite couple. Well, yes Alica, obviously I wouldn't be surprised since I am the author._

_And away we go._

In the blue-black darkness of their hotel room, Scarlett stretched languidly in Rhett's embrace. Chuckling softly, she shifted lightly to better fit into the welcoming circle of his arms.

"Would you care to share the joke Mrs. Butler," asked Rhett, taking her hand in the semi darkness. Lightly running his index finger over her wedding ring for an instant, he then lifted her hand to his lips, kissing it gently.

"The joke is on me," replied Scarlett, amusement evident in her voice. "As I grow older, I am beginning to suspect that the joke has very often been on me."

"How do you mean sweetheart?"

"I mean that I never thought I would come to believe that taking life too seriously could be a bad thing." She smiled. "I remember on our honeymoon you told me that I'd forgotten how to play because life had been so hard for me for so long. I don't know, maybe half of the difficulties I've had have been because I've taken life too seriously."

"I believe it is to your infinite credit that you are finally learning how to take a joke," he said, kissing the top of her head. "Although, may I say, it took you long enough."

"Well, at least I am learning which is more than I can say for India. I would say that she doesn't find anything to be all that funny right now."

"Satisfy my curiosity, that is, if you're done crowing over your victory, General Hood. Would you tell me what you and India discussed when you were closeted together in the library?"

"Oh, but that would be tattling," she said, a small smirk shaping her lips. "I think it would be rude to disclose what we discussed behind closed doors. I am sure India is counting on me to be discreet. It would be rude to run around town squawking about it."

"I would never ask you to be deliberately rude," he teased, "but suppose you just squawk to me."

"I don't know…"

"Would a please help?"

She laughed softly. Turning over, she rested her head on his chest. "Well, you did say please, how could I refuse you?"

"Very easily, I think."

"When have I refused you anything?"

Feeling his laughter rumbling beneath her head, she colored prettily. "Recently I meant. In the past, I denied you things every now and again, but I always gave in…eventually."

"Your repeated capitulations have always been appreciated. I suppose you and India had quite a lot to talk about. I hope you were gentle."

"Bite your tongue; she should have been gentle with me. She was very cruel, so cruel she hurt my feelings." Hearing him chuckle again, she pinched his forearm lightly. "You hush up. She acted as though we planned to charge her and Ashley back rent. That she even suggested I would or that I would encourage Wade to do such a trhing, that hurt. Why, I very nearly cried."

"I admit it, I would have liked to have been concealed on a couch in the parlor for this particular Wilkes versus O'Hara interaction mêlée. I have to know, what happened?"

"Well, if you insist."

India slammed the library doors shut. Her thin lips drew back in a sneer when she saw Scarlett sitting on the settee in the middle of the room. The fury in her pale grey eyes, the sheer hatred glimmering in those eyes; if there was ever a doubt, there could no longer be any. India Wilkes hated Scarlett and the feeling was more than mutual.

Looking at India, it brought to Scarlett's mind the rabid raccoon her father once shot while they were out walking when Scarlett was a child. "India," she said coolly, "will you sit? I could ring for tea, if you'd like."

"Who do you think you are? Inviting me to sit and asking if I'd like tea in my own house? You are ridiculous. You turn back up and expect the world to fall at your feet. I was trying to rest and then Cookie came pounding on my door telling me that Miz," she deliberately pronounced it with the Z the negro maid had used, "Butler wants me to come down."

India's lips twisted into a bitter scowl. The Miz left a bad taste in her mouth. Miz denoted respect amongst the darkies and she knew it. With Aunt Pitty gone, the household was slowly turning to Scarlett as the de facto head of the family. It was obvious in the way the servants were behaving. Even the women of her social circle seemed open to giving Scarlett some respect. Her own brother and nephew would defer to Scarlett and she knew that too. The knowledge grated painfully.

India had once been the first lady of Twelve Oaks. When her brother married, India knew Melanie would become the lady of Twelve Oaks but she had been hoping to have a household of her own. She had expected that Melanie would one day be the matriarch of the Wilkes family, while she occupied the position of beloved wife to Stuart Tarleton.

Instead, she was left in a house that did not belong to her, or even to her brother. Her nephews owned the house in which she lived and it was in no small part due to Scarlett that the household had prospered. Such knowledge did not spur gratitude but rather abhorrence in India's breast.

Seeing amusement in Scarlett's dancing green eyes, India snapped. "I don't know what you want with me or why you think you have the right to demand I come and—"

"Oh India, stop it," said Scarlett. "Please, just stop. I really didn't want to call you, in fact, I can hardly stand to be in the same room as you."

"You can't stand being in the same room as me, how dar—"

Rubbing her temple with the palm of her hand, Scarlett interrupted her. "If you would be as kind as to just shut up, I'd appreciate it."

"How dare you tell me to shut up!"

"India Wilkes, I have wanted to tell you to shut your mouth for years. I marvel at the self-control I must possess. When we were small, you irritated me. Then we grew older and you put on this mantle of the matron of the plantation, the first lady of Twelve Oaks. It was honestly sickening. Cathleen and I used to laugh ourselves silly at the airs you'd put on greeting guests at parties."

India's normally wan face looked as though she had smeared it with rouge. Flaming, hectic color flared in pale cheeks that had seldom known the blush of passion but were all too familiar with those of indignation and ire. "My mother was dead, whom else was there to see to things but me?"

Her voice was high and shaking. Just as when they had been young, when she wished to speak down to someone she considered inferior, India spoke with affected articulation, over enunciating every word.

"Mother died, what was I to do," countered India, "let Honey take over things?" India's stiff-necked pride was all she could lay claim to in the world and claim it she did. "I noticed that when your mother died, you took over everything. You still run Tara, even though you haven't lived there in years. Your poor sister Sue, I pity her. I really do, having to put up with you and the way you need to have a finger in every pie."

"I do not," Scarlett retorted swiftly, her eyes glittering dangerously.

"You do so; you always have to shove your way into everything." India's thin lips twisted into a smirk. "And, if you were being truthful, which you never are, you'd admit that I irritated you because I was everything you were never going to be. I was my mother's daughter. I knew that, unlike you, my mother could have looked down from heaven and been proud of me."

Scarlett snorted, refusing to rise to India's bait. "That's laughable. I was young but I do remember your mother; she didn't seem the type to run all over the county slandering family members to whoever would listen nor did she strike me as someone who would have been proud of you for doing so."

"You forced me to drag Ashley into things," cried India, "I had no choice. I had to make Melly see what you were. She trusted you when I knew she shouldn't. I knew what you were; I was trying to save them both from you."

"And just what am I, India? If you are such an expert on all things Scarlett, tell me, what am I? Cat got your tongue? Well, I can tell you what you are. You are so narrow-minded; it is laughable. You cannot see past your own warped morals. Years of being alone have twisted you up inside."

"If I'm alone, whose fault is that? You—"

"Oh for the love of God India, so Stu preferred me over you, so what? I took Charlie from Honey but that didn't stop her from finding someone else and I took Frank from Sue but she doesn't go to bed alone at night. If you are alone, the only person to blame is yourself. What am I saying, who would want you anyway?"

It had been so long since she'd been able to really let herself go. The earlier scrap with India had barely satisfied her appetite for a good fight. Charleston was hard on Scarlett, keeping her temper bottled was never a strong suit. Now, the opportunity to rip into someone, she could not still her temper or hold her tongue. A worthy victim for her acid tongue had presented herself and Scarlett would not let her get away.

"Oh India, Stu has been in his grave for more than a decade, besides he would have never married you anyway. A pert, pretty expression settled on Scarlett's face. Her voice, when she at was sweet as syrup even if her words were poisonous. "He told me so. One afternoon, while he was begging me for a kiss, he told me you were nice enough to court, but not to marry. You did nothing to make a man's blood boil, I think that was the way he put it. Poor, plain India was what he meant though, a girl can tell."

A noise caught between a scream and a whimper escaped India's lips. "The only reason he left off courting me was because you threw yourself at him, you…you...you slut!" Her chest was heaving; beads of perspiration dotted her forehead as her temper rose.

Scarlett laughed; the sound was girlish and carefree. It was the laughter of a girl in the midst of her first love affair. To Scarlett, India's jealousy was extremely gratifying; it was very nearly a palatable thing, satisfying her in a way nothing else could.

"I hate you. He came back; he loved me. Nothing you say will change that. "

"Stu loved you. You really thought that? Did he tell you that after poor Charlie died, he came and told me that he still loved me and he was willing to marry me? I was pregnant by another man and he still wanted me. Do you hear me," she moved toward India, ignoring the brief protesting flare of pain in her hip, "even in widow's weeds with a baby on the way, Stuart Tarleton was still head over heels for me. He only started courting you because I refused him a second time." Her lashes lowered slightly, presenting the very picture of demure womanhood. "And then, if truth be told, a third time. It was what I believe is called a crushing let down. Poor Stu."

India's eyes were wide with shock and fury, her delicate nostrils flaring with anger. Her expression was naked, stripped of all pretenses at being a true southern lady. Scarlett's taunts had brought to the surface the essential India. Perhaps if India had ever known passion or a touch heavy with lust, she might have been a different woman, one less contained and repressed but even wild Stuart Tarleton had respected and admired the stiff and haughty way India had carried herself so he never attempted to take liberties with her.

"It's a shame," said India coldly, "that he didn't see you as you really were; a cold hearted, selfish, self-centered monster. How could he though, he was just a young man with a slut throwing herself at him. I admit it, I am curious; did you ever simply try throwing yourself at Ashley? He is a man, no matter how brilliant he is, he is only human, it might have worked. Moreover, what about Captain Butler? If you had chased after him with even a quarter as much of the determination you chased after Ashley with, he might have stayed instead of leaving you behind. Scarlett O'Hara, cast-off wife, who didn't see that coming. Well, not you I imagine."

"That's none of your business."

"I grant you, it is hard to throw yourself at a man when you don't share a room with him, I suppose that explains Captain Butler, What about poor Ashley? I can't believe you never thought to push yourself at him, was there really no interest? I saw you that day at the mill, was that your first attempt? It didn't seem to be working though; he was only holding you, not kissing you."

"Go to hell India."

"I'll see you there."

"I may send you there sooner than you were expected."

India was able to regain some control of her rampant anger. Enough control, at any rate, to resume baiting Scarlett. "It's ironic, throwing yourself at Melanie's husband and your own didn't seem to work. Neither wanted you. You are such a joke, Scarlett O'Hara. You called me an expert on you, well I am. I know that you only want a man when he doesn't give a damn for you."

"Don't you worry about me India. My husband is crazy about me…"

"Crazy because of you is more like it."

Scarlett ignored the interruption. "As for your brother…" Scarlett paused. Though she was angry with Ashley, she still wasn't about to give his sister ammunition. "We are none of your business."

"I know something else about you. You're here, playing at being the perfect mother, Ellen O'Hara come again. We both know what a lie that is. Captain Butler took his child away from you because he knew that you'd poison her. Melly had to be mother to Wade and Ellen because you wouldn't, you couldn't and really you shouldn't be a mother."

She grinned, her lips pulled tight against her teeth. "I bet that's what happened, your sudden transformation. Did Wade want Melly instead of you? Is that why you suddenly wanted to play perfect mother? You couldn't stand that your own son would have preferred it if you were dead over Melly? I'll tell you something else, I thought when Captain Butler left you, in the end, he preferred to see both of his children dead rather than raised by yo-"

Without thinking, Scarlett slapped India across the mouth. She did it before she could stop herself. Slapping India had been something she had once dreamed of doing but now that she'd done it, she regretted it. Aunt Pitty would not have approved of her family slapping each other in the room where she had been laid out only a short time ago.

Scarlett flinched slightly. India running about with a bruised cheek was not going to be very helpful in the campaign to reclaim her reputation. Best to try and smooth things over, thought Scarlett. "India, you did deserve that, even if I shouldn't have hit you, you deserved it. Take it as a warning; don't ever talk about Melly or any of my children ever again."

"You struck me," said India, holding her cheek, her eyes slightly glazed in dull wonder.

"I did," granted Scarlett grudgingly. "I didn't intend to, but you made me so angry. I did it without thinking."

"You told me this afternoon you were going to slap me and now you did." A small, hiccupping sob escaped India's lips. "No one has ever hit me, ever.

High time then, thought Scarlett. Aloud, she tried to offer another apology.

"I said I was—"

_Thwack. _

The sound of India's hand meeting Scarlett's cheek was slow to fade away in the silence that settled over the parlor.

"You bitch," Scarlett said softly, lifting one hand to her throbbing cheek.

"You deserved it, you hit me first," countered India.

"And I'm going to do it again," cried Scarlett, striking India a second time across the other cheek. Wracking her brain, she searched for an insult that would wound India. "Pa was right about you when he said you were so stuck up that you'd end up leading apes into hell. I'm glad I took Stu, I saved him from you."

Fury colored India's face, temporarily concealing the handprint that adorned her right cheek. "That's just the sort of rude thing one could expect from your trashy father," India yelped.

"Call him whatever you like but trashy or not, he was able to marry a Robillard. The same can't be said for you, now can it? You are nothing more than a bitter, unloved old maid. Stu told me you were too stuck up to even kiss him," taunted Scarlett, "you go around, giving yourself airs as if his widow. The love of your life, but you never even kissed him, you are the joke India Wilkes, not me."

"If you say another word about Stuart, I will strangle you," screamed India.

"Stuart begged me to marry me, he was on his KNEES," Scarlett shrieked. "He never even mentioned you when he was begging me to love him. He never gave a damn about you and you are fooling yourself if you thought he ever did."

India moved toward Scarlett, violent intent written on her now grey face. The creaking groan of the hinges of the library door gave her a moment's pause. The sound of the parlor door opening distracted them both. Ashley stood in the doorway, searching both their faces. The palm prints on their cheeks must have still been clearly visible because his eyes widened suddenly. "Scarlett? India? What is going on in here?"

"Shut the door," both women shouted.

Head turning like a pistol shot, India glared at Scarlett, "Don't you dare speak to my brother like that," screeched India.

"Make me," replied Scarlett grimly.

"Don't just stop there my pet, what happened next?"

"Ashley ran off like a coward and all that I can say is, in the defense of both of us, we were able to refrain from laying hands on each other a second time. We just stood there and continued to call each other every foul name we could think of for another twenty minutes or so. "

"You won that round, I assume."

She shrugged lightly. "You assume correctly."

"I would expect nothing less."

Hearing the laughter in his voice, she defended herself brusquely. "Well, I did own a lumber mill staffed by convicts. I might have picked up a swear word or two."

"I'll just bet you did," Rhett said, laughing softly. His lips brushed her ear unexpectedly. "You'll have to enlighten me sometime, with regards to your immense vocabulary," he murmured softly, his hand lightly resting on her shoulder. Only a thin piece of muslin rested between the warmth of his palm and her soft flesh. "Now tell me, how did you leave things with Miss Wilkes."

She was acutely aware of the warmth radiating from his body. Then, as if reading her mind, he slid his hand lower, his slightly roughened fingertips grazing the sensitive skin over her collarbone.

This man, intoxicating to her senses, was her husband. For the first time since she'd laid eyes on him, she was sure that he belonged to her, wholly and completely to her. If she had known that first afternoon at Twelve Oaks that one day, she would love him with every fiber of her being, would that have changed the course of her life. Her entire adult life had led her, step by step, to him. It would have been more expedient if she had only known that one day they would be husband and wife, that he would be hers just as she was his. Had she known, she might have run from him, as far and as fast as her feet could have carried her.

Her lips curved into a smile. And, knowing Rhett, in the end he would have chased her until he caught her.

"What are you thinking about Scarlett?"

What use was there in lying? "You."

"Me?" He questioned, his hand tipping her chin back, "No one else?"

"No one else."

Her answer pleased him. Though it was difficult to make out his expression in the darkness, she could feel it in the way he drew her closer. "Tell me the end of your story."

"I told India what we'd found out, that it was Wade's house all along and that it would be best if she found somewhere else to live."

"She couldn't have taken that well."

"I don't know how she took it. She just stood there, gaping at me like a fish in the market. I finally walked out and well, you know the rest from there."

Twisting a lock of her hair around his finger, Rhett's voice was gentle. "I understand why he did what he did but Henry has caused a mess."

"I know."

Tugging her hair lightly, he waited until she looked up. Only when he was sure that he had her undivided attention did he speak. "Property shouldn't be split among too many heirs, it only causes hard feelings."

Biting her lip, Scarlett nodded. "I wish Pa had left a will settling things with Tara. He wanted me to have it and instead, well it is a mess, as you well know. I know it would break his heart if he knew that the church owned a part of his legacy." She flinched slightly before clarifying, "He was a good Catholic and he didn't mind giving to catholic charities, or really to anyone who had a need but…"

"It's not the same," concluded Rhett gently.

"No, it isn't the same at all. It is strangers having a say at Tara."

"I tried to speak with you about this before, but the mention of my untimely demise upset you. When we get back to Charleston, I want to settle my affairs, which is to say your affairs after I am gone. I own mother's house but as you might have guessed, I would like her to retain ownership."

She squirmed, uncomfortable with the topic. "I've had enough death; couldn't we leave this discussion for another time?"

"Death waits for no man Scarlett."

"That may be so, but can't Rhett Butler wait for another time?"

"I can wait until we get home, but when we do, I want to settle things once and for all. I was thinking, unless you object, I would like to leave the Landing to Wade."

He'd surprised her, rendering her temporarily speechless. "Rhett," she said, her voice hushed with surprise, "are you sure?"

"Am I sure that I want my son to have the Landing, to know that a good, loving, intelligent man will care for it when I'm gone? I can think of no one I'd rather."

"What if—what if things change one day?"

"They won't."

"You don't know that for certain?"

He sighed softly, his arms like iron bands around her body. He was holding her as though he thought she might escape his grasp. "Now I find it's my turn to ask you to drop a subject I don't wish to discus. I will honor your request, will you do the same?"

"Tell me, do you love me?" Scarlett asked suddenly.

His guard was up, "You know I do."

"Tell me."

"I love you. Don't you get tired of hearing me say it?"

"No. Every time you tell me, it is like hearing it for the first time. I try to fix it in my mind, to hold on to it because I need you to love me. I think I've needed your love in a way that I've never needed anything else."

"Do you really care so much," he asked her.

"I do."

His hands moved to her forearms, drawing her to his chest, he kissed the crown of her head. His words were soft when he spoke. "You and the children are everything Scarlett, and it scares me. I've tried to explain this to you and I feel as though you don't hear me. I walked away because when you finally said you loved me, I realized how vulnerable that made me. I loved Bonnie and then lost her. I would have loved—"

"Please don't."

"If I lose you, there is nothing for me."

"I don't believe that," she said. Her love for him did not blind her. If she were to die, he would mourn and then, there would be someone else. Someone who would love him and perhaps her children. It was that thought, the idea of another woman taking her place that made her push him back slightly. Looking up, she was able to make out his face in the darkness. "You win."

"It's not about winning."

"Then why do I feel like you've beaten me.

A note, this story is at this point f_or Alica. I keep writing because she keeps reading. We are keeping each other sane and that is all that matters to me. For the people who recently reached out to tell me they don't like this story, don't bother leaving any further reviews. Honestly, if you've read this much and gotten this far in FTE only to advise me to stop writing, you've got way too much time on your hands. And really, who are you to tell me I should stop writing?_

My writing has sustained me in the darkest hours. When my child was in renal failure and all I could do was sit beside her and pray, I turned back to writing to keep from screaming. You think you have the right to advise me to turn away from my lifeline, from my sanity? Who are you to tell someone to give up their passion? You are nothing to me and your opinion is as worthless. This is the only time you are worthy of my notice, to say this, no one knows for certain why someone writes. To advise anyone to stop, you may be telling someone that you'd rather see them trapped in misery as opposed to finding some escape from agony and uncertainty. 


	156. UPDATE

I'm sorry this isn't a story update, but it's an update on me. I have limited internet access so I could not answer the nearly 2 dozen PM's from FTE fans who asked about my status after the Hurricane.

We are safe and mostly sound. Power came back on yesterday, my daughter and I are safe and we didn't have any flooding in our house but there are so many parts of my island that are gone and will never be the same. There are now gas shortages and power outages on the island and in the tri state area. It's scary right now and I can't even be as scared as I would like to be because that fear won't help my daughter stay calm.

The playground I helped build in high school is gone, parts of my hometown where I still live are underwater and many of my friends have lost their homes and their possessions. Others have lost even more.

Please, no matter what or in who you believe, if you believe in anything pray for those affected by Hurricane Sandy.

I hope all of my readers and fellow authors are also okay. I know some of you are in the tri state area. I would love to hear you are all safe.

Love

Corrin


	157. From possibility to actuality

They stood side by side in the front hallway of their former home. The atmosphere was slightly more welcoming than it had been on Scarlett's previous visit. Henry Hamilton had taken it upon himself to stop at the Peachtree Street house on his way home the previous evening.

Carefully instructing the servants, he made it clear that the house was to be made as welcoming as possible. The servants had done their work well, hoping to please their long absent mistress. It behooved them to do their best to please Mrs. Butler. The jobs of the Butler servants were pleasant and certainly not demanding now that there was no family to serve.

To lose such enviable positions through laziness was unthinkable. Things were difficult in Atlanta, in the South; indeed across America and the greater world beyond. While the servants might have been unaware of the global economic crisis the world was currently suffering, they knew of the Panic that had hit in 1873.

Many of Atlanta's Negros had lost their savings in the panic. Distrustful of white banks and nearly always discouraged from conducting business, they had turned to the Freedman's Bureau's banks to deposit the wages earned by their labors. It seemed as if this were the Promised Land that so many had dreamed of for so long. On Fridays, the lines outside the National Freedman's Saving & Trust Company's main branch stretched down Broad Street.

It seemed that finally, all would be well. Small sums began to grow with each deposit, giving hope to some that they might eventually be able to take their families up North or out West to start new lives away from the place where they had been held in bondage. Saving toward a goal was not an unfamiliar concept to many former slaves, no matter what the former masters might think. Those that had lived on plantations with benevolent masters knew that money saved in the past had bought freedom. Some things had not changed.

Three million dollars belonging to 61,000 African Americans was on deposit in the 37 branches operating in 17 states. An 18th branch stood in the District of Columbia. Housed in an imposing multistoried building that had cost nearly 300,000 dollars to build, the institution conducted business with none other than the esteemed Fredrick Douglas as its managing President. In the District alone there were over 3,000 depositors, both individuals and cultural institutions. That's how much accumulated wealth vanished when the Freedman's Savings and Trust Company collapsed without warning to those who had trusted their fates and fortunes.

The Freedman's Savings Bank was a typical casualty of the financial crisis. Chartered in 1865 in the aftermath of the American Civil War, the bank had been established to advance the economic welfare of America's newly emancipated freedmen.

In the early 1870s, the bank had joined in the speculative fever, investing in real estate and unsecured loans to railroads; its collapse in 1874 was a severe blow to African-Americans. Those who had dreamed of building a stake in the future now dreamed only of keeping home and hearth together; even if it were someone else's home and hearth they kept. Servants that had once been lazy now tried a little harder than previously least they were dismissed from service.

Cotton had been steadily falling off for several years and in any case, there were few house servants that would seek work in a cotton field after years of serving indoors. Realizing how lucky they were to live in a large, warm house with as much food as they liked and no one to serve, Scarlett's servants worked through the night so that she would arrive to find the house to her exacting standards.

Gone now were the wraithlike, white drop clothes in the foyer and the rooms on the first floor. The windows had been left open overnight, dispersing the closed in air that had made it so difficult to breathe. Bouquets of hothouse flowers sat serenely in silver vases on several occasional tables scattered through the foyer and grand hallway. The soft, fresh scent of flowers perfumed the air. Picking up the card next to the flowers, Scarlett flicked it open.

_To Scarlett, my dear niece, please accept these with my compliments._

Henry Hamilton

Scarlett smiled before placing the card in her chatelaine bag. Glancing around the foyer, she sighed softly. It was just as bad as she remembered it.

Maybe, she offered silently, it was even worse when compared with the muted tones and beautiful lines of some of the homes in Charleston. The deep red carpets and heavy flocked wallpaper were still oppressive. Little could be done to alleviate the desolate immensity of how truly grotesque the house was. The stained glass picture window at the top of the vast staircase filtered the soft glow of sunlight, casting multicolored shadows on the stairs.

They stood in the foyer, each lost in their own memories until at last, Scarlett spoke. "It really is dreadful, isn't it?"

Wade's cheeks flushed. His mother had read his thoughts but he was too polite to immediately agree. "It's hard to believe we lived here, it seems like that was a long time ago."

"When you were just a little boy?" Scarlett teased.

"Yes," he replied truthfully, his voice wistful as he looked toward the past, "when I was little."

He was such a good boy, thought Scarlett, her heart constricting painfully with emotions she could still only hesitantly share. She had never been good at feelings. Charles Hamilton, good hearted and gentle, loving and kind to everyone who had ever crossed his path during his short life showed in his son more and more as each year passed. He was good with feelings. Wade had a talent for loving that surpassed anything she could lay claim to.

A good man had begot a good son and she was suddenly painfully grateful to the madness and need to revenge herself on Ashley that had made her accept Charles Hamilton's fumbling, awkward proposal.

"Yes. You're right, you aren't little anymore." She reached out haltingly and when he did not move, she laid her hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly. "You never really got a chance to be just a little boy. I'm so sorry for that."

He smiled a little, touched by her honest and apparent attempt at trying to be understanding of his feelings. It was not in her natural normally and he appreciated the effort greatly. "The war took my childhood, not you. It's not as though you personally fired on Fort Sumter mother."

She laughed to before removing her hand." That is true. Still, I owed it to you to be better, I should have found a way to do better."

"You kept me safe, you protected me, and you did everything you could for me. I know that. I want to tell you that, I know you care for me. I did even before Charleston, before you sent for us. I love you mother, just as you are."

She wanted him to know, even if it was difficult for her to say, that she loved him as best she could. While her best was not Melly's best or Gerald's best, she loved him with all that she had within her. "I don't just care for you, I love you. You are my son, the only one I have. I wasn't good with you, I can't lie and say that I tried to be a good mother when you were little but I would have died to protect you."

"You say you weren't a good mother? Isn't that what a good mother does?"

It was her turn to be touched by his simply honesty. "Wade, you always look for the good in everyone, don't you?"

He shrugged lightly. "I try. What use is there in looking for bad? People will show it to you, there's no need to look for it." Looking around, Wade casually remarked, "Our house is very different from Tara or Grandmama's house."

"You would make your Aunt Melly very proud. Anyone else would tell me it's an awful place and more. You at least pretend that it is just different. There's no use pretending, you and your sister were miserable here."

"We weren't though. I always liked the fountains and the ballroom and Ella liked to play in the gazebo and she thought the statue of the stag in the yard was the most beautiful work of art in the world."

"Did she? I don't think I knew that. Should we have it sent to the Landing, the statue I mean?"

Seeing him look away, she sighed softly. "No, of course we shouldn't. Why would she want a tangible reminder of how otherwise unbearable her life in Atlanta was."

"It wasn't unbearable. She had Bon—"He broke off and swallowed deeply.

"You can say her name around me Wade; I promise I won't go to pieces."

"I can't, not here. Not where she actually lived and was….was Bonnie. This is the last place on earth that she lived. I know she visited Grandmama's, but I can't feel her there, not a bit." He looked up the stairs as if waiting to hear an errant giggle from the gallery hall above. "Here though, in this house; if I spoke her name out loud, I'd feel like I'd be summoning spirits."

He moved away from her side. "Wade," she asked softly."

"He flinched. "I have nightmares where I'm afraid that she is still here, in this house, wondering why we all left her alone."

"Wade!" She went to him and catching his hands she pulled him down to sit next to her on the bench outside the dining room. "Your sister was a good, sweet, innocent little girl. She isn't here, not in this house, not somewhere else on earth either. She is in heaven with my parents and your Aunt Melly. I can't think of a better guardian angel for her to have then Melanie Wilkes. I didn't even know you thought such a thing possible." Glancing around the room, she suppressed a shudder. Bonnie, trapped here, alone. Such a thought was really the stuff of nightmares.

"It's just when we came here, I didn't forget her when I was away, but being in Atlanta, its' like everything that's ever been bad is waiting here for us." His shoulders slumped. "I hate here mother. I do. I just want to go home, to Charleston I mean. "

"We can talk about her though. If you ever want to talk about her, you shouldn't feel as though it's a taboo subject. She was such a wonderful little girl and we all loved her. We shouldn't not speak of her as though she—"

He lifted his soft brown eyes and in them she saw a glitter that denoted impending tears. "If I talk about her, I want to cry. I didn't know that I wouldn't get a chance to say goodbye to her. I just think about her and everything she won't be a part of and I want to cry. I want to cry because Ella and I are getting older and she's in my mind, frozen forever as a little girl."

"Wade honey-"

"We will get married and have families of our own, but she won't. She'll never fall in love or go to parties. She's gone and I didn't know that she wouldn't be here with us for the rest of our lives. I wanted to cry when she died but I tried not to because that isn't what a man should do." A shuddering sigh escaped his lips.

Scarlett rested her hand on his cheek. "Men do cry Wade. It doesn't make the less of a man for having emotions."

He shrugged, thinking of how Rhett had reacted to Bonnie's death. He didn't know anyone that was more of a man than Rhett. "Yes, I suppose that is true."

"The most bitter truth of life is this Wade, we very seldom get to say good bye to the people who matter most in our lives. I count myself lucky to have been with Mammy when she died. I wasn't there with my parents, with your father, with anyone that mattered most to me. Your sister, she was gone in an instant. None of us knew that would be the way of things, but it was."

"It's not fair, she was just a little girl, why her?"

"I have asked myself that a million times."

He pulled out a twisted and slightly gray handkerchief with several runs that was typical of a well behaved boy who never the less was still a boy who stuffed things like interesting rocks, and leaves, and other interesting things in his pockets. "Do you need my handkerchief? Rhett always says you never have them. I didn't mean to make you sad, but if I did, you could use mine."

At his omission of Uncle and the use of just Rhett, she smiled wistfully. He was growing up, faster than she realized. Such an omission might have been unintentional, but it still showed that he was moving away from some of the things that had made up his childhood. "I'm fine, but I thank you. Now, do you still want anything from this house? If you don't, that's fine."

"I have some books and maps I want. I would like the tin soldiers Pork painted for me. Not to play with, just to have" he added hastily.

"I quite understand," she replied with a smile, "but don't be in too great a hurry to grow up. No one would judge if you set your soldiers up on a mock battlefield in your room. That's not playing in any case, that's planning future strategies."

"You are teasing me," commented Wade, wonder and pleasure filtering in his voice. His mother was never one for affection or teasing. She'd always been good to them; taking care of their needs and seeing that they were comfortable and safe. There had been praise for being a good boy just as there had been chastisement and correction when the situation warranted it. Outward shows of love, affection, teasing and laughter; those things had always been in short supply

"I am a little, I suppose. I just don't want you to rush to be a man. You'll be one someday, and a find one at that. Enjoy being free to like things that make you happy, even if they are things that seem babyish."

"May we take Dobbin?"

"Dobbin?" Scarlett laughed softly. "I'm not being caught as easily as last time so I will speak the truth and shame the devil. I hope you won't think less of me but Wade, I have no idea who or what Dobbin is?"

He shrugged his shoulders, his toe tracing one on the vines woven into the carpet. "It's her rocking horse."

He did not need to clarify who "her" was.

"Oh," was all Scarlett could say

"Ella is a little too big for him now, but I know she'd like to have him."

Scarlett dipped her head slightly, a barely perceivable nod. "If you think Ella would like Bonnie's rocking horse, then of course we will have it sent."

Looking up, Wade's expression turned guarded, his eyes were dull. "What's going to happen to all of the rest of the things we leave behind? To her things?"

Walking forward towards the stairs, Scarlett motioned for him to follow. "That's a good question, I'll need to speak with Rhett about Bonnie's things but otherwise, most things will go. Certainly the very large things like some of the furniture, the carriages, most of the rugs; all of that sort of thing will have to go. Rhett will arrange to have things donated to charities, churches, any place that might use it to help people. The very expensive things that we don't want to take, those will go to auction houses I suppose."

"We really aren't going to live here anymore?"

He sounded more like a little boy in that moment than the brave young man he'd been for so long. Deep in her heart guilt and shame reminded her of just how poor a mother she'd really been when he'd been small. "No darling, we aren't. When the house is empty, it will go up for sale. Someone else will live here."

"They'll paint over the mural in the nursery," he said softly, his eyes taking on a wounded look that pained her heart.

He was right; someone would paint over the mural in the nursery. The beautiful murals that the artist from Newport had painted after the nursery had been completed. The scenes were from the fairy storybook that her pa had read to her and her sisters when they were children. That book she had forgotten at Pitty's house the night they had fled Atlanta had still been in her bedroom at Pitty's when she returned that wet afternoon so many years ago to secure the tax money to save Tara.

The mural was perfect, so perfect. The children had loved the mural; it had been one of the few things they had loved in the Butler house of horrors.

Keeping her voice light, she agreed. "They might very well paint over them Wade. That would be their right as the new owners."

"I don't like our house," offered Wade suddenly, "but…"

"You don't want anyone else to live in it?"

His face lit up. "Yes! You understand, don't you? It's not home, but it's still our house."

"I do." She rested her hand against his still smooth cheek. Soon, his cheek would be prickly with a beard and then he would no longer be her little boy. He'd grown so fast and she had been too focused on everything else and not on him, never on him.

Or Ella.

Or Bonnie.

Shaking her head, she felt her earbob gently brush her check. The sensation drew an involuntary shudder. "It's hard to look around now and remember why I liked all of this so much in the first place. I wanted a grand house that would show people. Now, I don't remember exactly what it was I wanted to show them."

Silently, she offered him her arm. Together they began to climb the long staircase.


	158. When you assume

**Yes, that's right, it's another chapter and it hasn't been 6 months. Call it a Valentine's gift except it def. isn't a sweet chapter. Here's to hoping I still have readers. I do apologize about the long breaks in updating and I don't know how it's happened, but I have the next chapter after this nearly done. Also, the man who I sent my old hard drive recieved it last week and now we see if he can retrieve my old documents off of it.  
Cross your fingers!**

After leaving Wade in his old room with instructions to pile anything he wanted to take to Charleston on the window seat, she made her way down the hall. Stopping in front of Rhett's bedroom door, she took a deep breath that turned into a cough. Her throat felt tight at the thought of entering the room that Rhett had once barricaded himself in with their daughter's small, broken body.

She wanted to say a prayer before opening the door but what sort of prayer would be appropriate for the situation? She shivered and felt ashamed for it. Why should I be afraid, she thought ruefully, this is my house, there is nothing here that can harm me." Chiding herself for being silly and superstitious, she opened the door to the bedroom.

The faint, lingering scent of his cigars and the spicy smell of his cologne hung in the air, bearing silent witness to his visit earlier in the month. Still, even if the smell of the room marked it as Rhett's space, many things that made it his domain were now gone. Some of his things were in Charleston; things like his brass Captain's clock and the heavily carved box from somewhere in the Far East in which he kept things like cufflinks and tie pins.

Those items had once rested on the bureau of the room they had shared as a newly married couple. For a man as wealthy as Rhett, he had so few material possessions that seemed to especially matter to him. His box and clock, those were the things he'd taken with him when he first left Atlanta.

His pictures...

The small easels on his bureau that once bore photos of Bonnie, Wade, and Ella had been removed but she had not seen them in Charleston. There had been a picture of them taken in New Orléans on their honeymoon. Did he still have it? She resolved to ask him when she returned to the hotel.

Stepping further into the room, she began methodically opening drawers. Most of them were empty save for a few shirts, cravats, and vests. Opening his wardrobe, she found it nearly empty apart from some coats, a few pairs of boots, and a great-coat that she could not remember him ever wearing. Reaching out to close the door, she saw how badly her hand was trembling and swiftly, as though burned, she drew it back to her side.

"Fraidy-cat, fraidy-cat," she taunted softly, mocking herself. Reaching out again, she pushed aside the great-coat. There, hanging on a hook at the back of Rhett's wardrobe was one of Bonnie's riding habits.

She had wondered, in the months after she's died, had he disposed of them all? They disappeared from the nursery wardrobe in the days after her death. She'd suspected where they had disappeared to but she'd never been able to find the courage to ask. After he left, she had entertained the idea of looking through his belongings for them but she put aside that notion.

At the time, she lied to herself and said that she didn't especially care. The reality was that she was afraid she would not be able to stand seeing the blue velvet habits that her daughter had so adored in life. The current location of one of the tiny red leather gloves that she had worn while so masterfully handling the reins of that god dammed pony were, on the other hand, not a mystery. It was safe and sound, wrapped in tissue paper, in the bottom drawer of her nightstand back in Charleston.

How sad, she thought. How tragic that he took this habit and I have her glove hidden away but neither of us could really admit to the other just how much we missed her. What was wrong with me, why couldn't I be kinder to him? Why didn't I just…

A chill ran through her. There was someone watching her from the hall. It couldn't be Wade, he was too well-mannered to sneak up on her. None of the servants had thus far shown their faces. Could it be an intruder? Damn it, she thought, why hadn't she listened to Rhett? He had been completely against the idea of her and Wade visiting the house without someone to accompany them. She had waited until he left to visit the bank to go. Once again, she had known best and ignored his protestations.

Turning, she saw the shadow of a figure in the hall, the source of the shadow standing just beyond the doorway.

"I must warn you," she said softly, "I am armed."

"Somehow," said Ashley, stepping into Rhett's bedroom, "I doubt that."

Her breath caught in her throat. Panic washed through her, her heart beating against her ribs like a bird frantically beating its wings while trying to escape a cage. "Mother of God," she spat, her beautiful features contorted by rage, "are you insane?" Catching sight of her face in the mirror over the bureau, she struggled to compose herself. Her features smoothed over, but her green eyes, narrowed and hostile, betrayed her turbulent emotions. . "What are you doing here? How did you know I was even here?"

"The desk clerk at the National told me that you'd gone out. When I asked where, he told me you'd made use of the hotel's carriage. I asked one of the grooms. And when I offered him a generous tip, it wasn't hard to find you after that."

Rage boiled up, coursing through her until she felt as though he'd set her on fire. Could she bludgeon him with her cane without losing her balance, she wondered. "You went around my hotel, asking about me? You are too intelligent not to recognize how awful that must have looked. Did you ask for the Butler's so that people might think you were at least looking for my whole family or did you just throw caution to the wind and ask for Rhett Butler's wife? What could have driven you to be so stupid, so completely tactless and- "

"I didn't mean to make you conspicuous," he replied defensively, "I just wanted to find you,"

She shook her head. "And I wish you hadn't. You need to leave, now. Right now Ashley," she gestured toward the door to the hall, "Go!"

"May we go downstairs? I want to speak with you, if you can spare me a few minutes." He reached out to put his hand on her forearm, "Please, don't be angry with me. I know this is not proper, for me to come and essentially hunt you down like this, but I honestly didn't trust that you would come and say goodbye to me before you left for Charleston. I knew if I wanted to speak to you, I might have to approach you in an unconventional manner."

Her eyes flashed angrily as she shrugged him off. "I have no time to spare for you. In any case, if you must know, you're right. I had no intentions of coming to say goodbye to you. I would have managed to see Beau, but I didn't want to see you. As far as I am concerned, we have nothing to say to each other."

"Scarlett," he beseeched softly, "please come downstairs and speak with me a minute."

"Downstairs is nearly as bad as speaking here. This house is nearly empty and if Rhett were to find us…" the blood drained from her face. "Rhett. Oh God Rhett." Her face was pale, even her lips were nearly white with strain and fear. "You need to go. He can't find us here; I could never make him believe me. If I were him, I wouldn't believe me and I am me."

"You're babbling Scarlett."

"Of course I am because I am quite honestly terrified. I do not know what Rhett would do to you if he found you here, especially here, in this room of all places."

He nodded. "Fine, then let's go downstairs to the parlor. At least if we are found downstairs it isn't as inappropriate as if we were found speaking in a bedroom."

She snorted. "No matter where he might find us, Rhett would find it inappropriate. Quite honestly, I couldn't judge him. I find us being here, it's inappropriate and a little grotesque considering everything that's come before between us."

Turning from the intense disgust written on her expressive face, he turned away. Looking around the room, he asked softly, "Is this your room? If you ask me, it doesn't suit you, at all."

"I don't recall asking you and in any case, this isn't my room, it was Rhett's." A guilty flush turned her complexion rose. The reason for Rhett having a room of his own was standing in said room.

"Scarlett?"

"What," she asked wearily.

"I'm sorry for yesterday."

"Don't be. Certainly, I'm not. I said things to you yesterday that had been on my mind for the last decade or so."

He looked crestfallen at hearing her admission. It was as if he'd been hoping that they would be able to let bygones be bygones. Well, she thought, if that was what he'd thought, then he was going to be sadly disappointed.

"Do you feel better for having said them?"

Her face fell slightly. "No. Not especially."

"Wade owns the house I am living in Scarlett."

At his clumsy segue, she shrugged. "So it would seem."

"India is already packing her things. When you and I are finished speaking, I am going to look into renting a house; at least for the time being, I don't know about the future." He smiled faintly. "I think that it may be time to reconsider things."

Against her better judgment, her heart, frozen against him, was starting to slowly thaw. Melly wouldn't want to see her treat him like this, she thought. On her deathbed, Melly had considered the men in their lives, Rhett and Ashley, and had asked her to care for them both. Sighing, she asked "Such as?"

"I don't believe that I want to stay in Atlanta."

"Where would you go?"

"I'm not sure. I admire you Scarlett. You've left everything you've ever known to remake yourself anew in Charleston. You seem to be thriving in a new environment. Your children are happy. You are happy."

"We are."

"And I am left to envy that happiness; a happiness that you and your family all share. Atlanta is filled with ghosts; they seem to haunt Beau and me. I want to exercise those incessant spirits."

"By running off?"

His pale features were fixed in a look of grim determination. "No, by starting my life. I've been meaning to find a way back to life, to find a way to live the rest of my life. I think it's time to move on Scarlett."

"And you can't move on in Atlanta," she scoffed.

"No, I don't think I can. This isn't the first time I considered leaving Georgia. You may remember, after the war I wanted to move Melly and Beau to New York. A friend from the my Grande Tour was part of a family that owned a bank."

Her cheeks reddened. "I remember. How could I forget? I was the reason you didn't move." Now even her throat was flushed. "Not that I meant to imply you stayed for me, you stayed because I made Melly make you stay."

He gave her a genuine smile. "And now dearest, I am grateful for your intervention. Melly had so little time left; we just didn't know it. I don't know what I would have done had she died in New York, away from those who loved her."

She shook her head as if trying to dislodge unpleasant truths. "Surely the job your friend offered you is gone now?"

"Indeed it is but David, that's my friend; he said there are other jobs that I might be suited for. While I am not saying—"

"When did he say that there was a job for you? You can't be sure with the Panic on that that's still the case."

Fondly, he smiled at her. It was one of those slow, lazy rare smiles that in the old days she would have sold her soul for. There was warmth in his soft gray eyes and Scarlett struggled to remain aloof. "Even when you are angry with me, you are still concerned that I might be chasing a dream. You are a unique woman, but I've always known that even if I never really properly appreciated you."

"Don't Ashley," she cautioned.

"I'm sorry. As for your question, there were openings when he wrote last month. I wouldn't care anyway if it takes a little while. I am not hurting for money these days and once I sell the mills-"

"Sell the mills," she exclaimed, her eyes widening. How could he do such a thing, she thought. Selling them to him had been almost as good as keeping them because she believed that Ashley would run the mills for the rest of his life.

"Yes Scarlett, I plan on selling them both."

Her voice rose a near shriek. "Sell to who? When?"

"I don't know to who Scarlett, but it will be soon. Until yesterday I don't believe I ever seriously considered leaving Atlanta. Now, knowing that Beau doesn't own a share in Pitty's house, I don't feel that we need to stay. Beau loses nothing by us leaving; in fact, he may gain something."

"What could he possibly gain," she countered swiftly, "he'll be leaving his friends, his school, and what's left of his family. What could you give him by taking him away?"

"Peace? A new start? You should know how valuable both of those commodities are?"

She felt that she was fighting a losing battle, but still she had to try. She owned it to Melly to fight for Beau and his right to grow up among his friends and familiar surroundings. "But up North, he will be miserable."

"Ah, you didn't let me finish and so you've misunderstood. I only want to move us from Atlanta. I didn't mean that we would move up north. I was considering Richmond or Colombia. If we economized, Beau, India, and I could live very well on the proceeds from the mill until I find something to turn my hand at. Possibly writing. I would enjoy writing I think. I've been thinking that maybe I could even afford a very abbreviated Grand Tour for the three of us. I think a series of travel books about places in Europe could be very popular if done correctly."

He sounded like a fool and she didn't mind telling him so and in as blunt a fashion as possible. "You sound utterly ridiculous."

He looked unhappy at her condemnation but did not rise to challenge her. "Maybe so Scarlett but I think I am entitled to a little silliness. Will you wish me well?"

"I wish you'd come to your senses," she retorted sharply.

His voice was soft when he spoke but there was conviction in her words, a quiet strength that she could not dismiss out of hand. "I have never been in a more firm possession of my senses in my life."

"It makes me sick, and I mean actually physically ill to listen to people without a lick of sense. Do you hear yourself; writing? Travel books? Moving away from your home? Yes, those are most definitely sentiments I expect a sensible man to express."

They were quiet awhile, Scarlett angry and annoyed by his foolishness and Ashley dismayed at her annoyance. Finally, he asked, "will we see you before you leave for Charleston?"

Sighing, she shrugged her shoulders lightly."Bring Beau to the hotel on Friday morning, perhaps for breakfast in the dining room? We can say our good byes then."

"India—" he began

"Is a hag," she finished without a pause.

"Scarlett!"

"Don't you Scarlett me. And don't look at me that way either. She is a witch, pure and simple."

"Scarlett…"

"No. I won't take it back and don't even bother to ask."

He nodded. "I'm going to leave Scarlett, before we say anything else that would be difficult to take back."

She waited until he reached the door to the hallway before softly calling his name. "Ashley?"

"Yes," he replied, turning back to face her.

Drawing something small from the concealed pocket sewn into her paletot, she opened her palm to show him her derringer. "A piece of advice, from me to you before you begin this new, exciting life. Never immediately assume that when a woman says she's armed, she's lying."

Involuntarily, he swallowed. "Why do you have that?"

She smiled and this time her eyes sparkled. "Because you never know when someone will sneak up on you while you are rummaging around an abandoned house."

"Point taken. Thank you for not shooting me."

"Oh, don't thank me. It's a single shot so I wouldn't have used it unless I thought I had a clear shot."

He bowed. "Good bye Scarlett."

"So long Ashley."

His footsteps were muffled by the thick hall carpet but when she heard a creak on the top step, she knew he was gone and she was alone again.

"I think you should have taken the shot anyway, you once told me you could shot straight if you didn't have to shot far," said a voice from the door that connected Rhett's bedroom to her old room.

Her stomach plummeted.

Rhett.


	159. Changes for the Better

**To my most recent anon. reviewer,**

**I am sorry if you are disappointed with the pace of this story, how often I post, and you are questioning if it will ever end. Unfortunatly, I just don't have the time for FTE that I once did. This is a good thing in some ways. The bulk of FTE was written whenever my daughter was in the hospital due to her chronic renal disease. The longer between updates, the better her health has been. It is probably a testament to how bad things were when you think about how long the story already is.**

**I promise you this much, the story will end one day. The last chapter was the first I wrote. I've always known how the story ends and most of it has already been written out or is outlined in several notebooks.**

I promise you, one day, maybe not for a long time, but one day there will be a chapter that begins with

_**In the two years that followed Scarlett's _and the _so many things had changed that Rhett often found he was searching for familiar landmarks in this new, unknown country.**_

**What could be in the blanks? We will just have to wait and see.**

**On the bright side, this is the last Atlanta chapter and I wouldn't wonder if a certain Dr. is waiting patiently for me back in Charleston.  
_**

**MATURE CONTENT IN THIS CHAPTER, skip to end if need be.**

Turning to face him, she tried to compose herself. "I'm not a very good shot; I wouldn't have wanted to miss."

He shrugged derisively. "I would have taken the shot anyway, but that's just me."

Pressing her lips together, she willed herself to meet his dark eyes. They were blank and unresponsive but she knew, just the same, she was the subject of a great deal of scrutiny on his part. "This is going to sound tired," she began, her voice soft, but steady and without the air of theatrics that so often permeated their past exchanges," but this is not what you think."

"What do I think," he asked. His tone was not challenging, his facial expression suggested he was merely curious.

"Something awful, but I swear to you, I didn't know Ashley was going to come and look for me and I certainly didn't think he would be as thoughtless and ill-mannered as to come upstairs to find me."

"So you are asking me not to think the worst of you?"

"Yes," she pleaded. Her green eyes wide and her expression was open as she tried to force him to see her innocence.

He smiled slightly. "Don't you find that a bit hypocritical? You are asking me to think the best of you when you've already made up your mind as to what I think about walking in on you in my bedroom with another man…"

"But Rhett,…"

He held up his hand. His wedding ring caught her gaze and inwardly, she cringed. "And not just another man," he continued, "but the," he emphasized the word "the", "other man."

A cold ball of ice was forming in her stomach. Why hadn't she expelled Ashley the second he arrived? This was exactly what she knew would happen if Rhett found her with Ashley. Still, she could see that he was listening to her; there might still be a chance to make him see the truth. "You have to believe me, nothing happened."

"I believe you."

"I told him to leave but he wouldn't until he said his piece," she continued, "I stopped to listen and I know, I shouldn't have, but I thought of Melly and I did without meaning to."

"I know." His face was still blank, unreadable.

She continued, "I told him that you would be furious to find him here."

"I know and I am," he sighed softly, "but not with you."

It dawned on her, the magnitude of what he'd just said. "You believe me?"

"I believe you."

"Why?"

"Because you've told me that I can trust you and I do." He shrugged, his broad shoulders defined under his well fitted suit jacket. "Also, I was standing here listening to you and Ashley for the last twenty minutes or so."

"So it's not that you believe me," she replied, her voice turning cool.

"I just said I believe you."

"No," she said, her eyes flashing briefly. "You believe your own ears. You aren't taking my word on faith, because you believe me. You just believe me because you know for a fact I'm not lying."

"Which is a nice position to be in," he offered with a wry grin.

"Humph," she snorted, crossing her arms across her chest. "Well, this leaves us in a fix."

"How do you mean?"

"If you aren't going to overreact and storm off somewhere," her voice faltered briefly on "somewhere" "to drink and blame me without listening to my side and I am not going to sit here and cry my eyes out while I try to pick out why I care that you are hurt and angry, what are we going to do instead?"

Laughing softly, he walked behind her and turning the lock to the door leading to the hall, he smiled. "Alone at last."

Seeing the warmth now flood into his eyes when he looked at her, she shook her head "We aren't alone, Wade's just down the hall."

"I know, I checked in on him. He's lying on his old bed, fast asleep. He had some books next to him. I think he must have been looking through them and nodded off."

Color flooded her face, wiping several years from her face until she looked like the blushing bride she once was. "We can't," she cautioned.

He smirked. "You're sure?"

She nodded. "Positive."

He moved closer, "Absolutely?"

She took a small step back, her cheeks now flame colored. "Mostly," she replied, her lips curving in a small smile.

"You're certain that I couldn't I convince you to reconsider?" He stepped closer, causing her to retreat until the backs of her thighs hit the side of his old bed.

Meeting his intense gaze, her eyes sparkled. The tip of her tongue slid out to moisten her lips. "You could try," she offered softly.

He stood before her now. Her skirts were all that separated them, giving her several inches of space between them. "I want to tell you something," he said, "if I may?"

Not trusting her voice, she nodded.

Leaning close, he spoke softly in her ear. "There were many nights when I was in my bed and you were in the bed that had been ours and we were separated by just a door." He laughed softly, "Well, there were many other things keeping us apart but the most solid was the door. It usually wasn't even locked. There were nights, sometimes after we would sit at dinner and I would watch the candlelight play on your –" He moved so that she could see his face. The sheer desire in his eyes nearly stole her breath away. His full lips curved into a smile. "God help me, the nights when you were kind were the worst. You would try and start a conversation with me and you would laugh and I would watch you and I would want you."

"Oh," she whispered.

There was a softness in her expression that he seldom saw and he knew that she was wishing the same thing he was, that one of them could have made the first move.

"I never knew."

"No, I don't suppose you did. I would make it through those dinners in hell, and then escape to Belle's or to my room. I couldn't often stay her because I often thought of going through that door, ripping you out of bed and bringing you back in here where I would have stripped you bare and then had my way with you. I would not have taken no for an answer. I would have touched you everywhere until you…" He leaned closer, until his lips brushed the sensitive skin just below her ear.

"Rhett-"Her voice shook.

"Yes," he teased, speaking softly in her ear, "until you would have called my name. Confess Scarlett, I hear it's good for the soul, did you never feel any temptation?" He moved slightly so he could look into her emerald eyes, "Did you ever think about just knocking on the door?"

"Yes, sometimes after nightmares or when there was a storm, when I just wanted you to hold me, I thought about it but…" she trailed off.

He ran his hand slowly down her arm, "But what?"

Her breath caught, hitching slightly. "I thought that you would turn me away or you would laugh at me."

Her unexpected response caused him to chuckle softly. "Scarlett, if you had knocked on my door in the middle of the night with your hair loose and flowing and wearing one of those rather enticing negligees I bought you on our honeymoon, I assure you, laughing would have been the last thing I would have done."

"How was I supposed to know? I suppose…," she hesitated, uncomfortable at admitting that there might be a man alive that hadn't wanted her. She just needed to say it, she thought, he wanted honesty, so he should get it. "I suppose I was afraid you wouldn't want me."

He laughed again but this time there was a glitter in his dark eyes that made her heart beat frantically in her breast. "I told you once, but you may have forgotten, I would have to be dead to not want you. The question is, and I will admit you might have answered it back in Charleston but I could have forgotten. I am, after all, an old man Scarlett—"

"Ha," she scoffed softly.

He lightly pinched her chin, tipping her face back slightly."Don't interrupt your elders you impertinent girl, tell me Scarlett, do you want me Scarlett?"

Words wouldn't be enough. She knew that. It would be actions that he was looking for. Leaning forward, she traced her finger down his cheek, stopping to rest on his lips. She lightly tapped his lips with one long, tapered fingernail "When are you going to accept the fact that you're the only man I'll ever want? I will never want another man the way I want you. When you were in here," she inclined her head toward his bed, "and I was in my room; I only wanted you. I dreamed about you. I cried for you. I needed you. I wanted you. I knew but I realized too late; it was you I wanted all along. One day, I hope you will know that and you won't even have to ask."

Rhett took her hand from his lips and used it to pull him against her. His body was firm, unyielding and muscular. She felt a wave of warmth pass through her body. "I've known that all along, I was just waiting for you to realize it. It just took you a little longer to realize it then I thought it would."

"It took me such a long time," she asked playfully, "are you sure you still want me Rhett?"

He answered quietly, as honestly as he could "I never stopped wanting you." He brushed the hair that had worked its way loose from its pins from her face. "Do you know what's in my heart? You are. You are in my heart, you never left even when I wanted you to. I hated you because you alone made me feel. No woman ever made me feel the way you do and I hated for it because you didn't feel the same way."

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pressed herself against his body. Her eyes glittered with anticipation, "I need you Rhett."

"You have me."

She nodded. "Then show me."

He kissed her, hard. He did not allow her to draw back nor did he allow her to remain pedestrian. Running his hand down between their pressed bodies, he cupped her breast, squeezing lightly. He was stirring her to passion and without thinking; she opened her mouth to him. Pulling her off her feet, he lowered her to the bed. Her skirts belled forward, propelled by her bustled and hooped petticoats. The absurdity of the situation caused her to break into nervous giggles.

He pulled her back to her feet. "Someday," he murmured softly in her ear, "women's fashions will evolve to a point where an impromptu assignation with one's wife does not require planning in advance. I admit, I envy those men."

She sighed. "It was a nice idea, while it lasted."

He kissed her then, his mouth hot and demanding. His earlier kisses had banished some of her natural reluctance when it came to intimacy. Without a word, she met his demands with needs all her own. Without breaking contact from her lips, he moaned her name into her mouth even as she raked her fingernails down his back. His hand slid between them and she could feel his hand struggling to unbutton her basque.

"No corset," he whispered, "I admit, that is still taking some getting used to, but I like it." Pushing her chemise down, he freed one of her breasts. The cool air made her nipple tighten almost instantly, heightening its sensitivity to his touch. When he stopped kissing her to lower his head to her breast, she moaned.

He took his lips away so he could look into her eyes. She could feel him studying her as she opened her eyes and saw the passion she felt mirrored in his own eyes.

Pulling the loose neckline down still further, he exposed her other breast. Sighing softly, he stroked Scarlett's now exposed breasts. Leaning down, he licked her nipple gently before he repeated the gesture on the other nipple. He continued for several minutes until Scarlett's eyes slid closed, lost in a hazy world of passion and mounting desire. She began to slip further and further under the waves of pleasure that were building, waves that threatened to break over her any second. It was then that Rhett took one of her nipples and catching it between his teeth, he nipped it gently.

That was all Scarlett's already aroused body needed. Crying out incoherently, she arched her back upward to give him more access to her body while mindlessly raking her nails down his back. Gently he released her, keeping one supportive arm around her waist to keep her from falling.

"Rhett?" She questioned as he turned her toward the bed. Without a word, he slowly pressed her forward until her palms were splayed flat on the bedcovers. The only sound in the room was her panting breaths and his own slightly labored breathing. Then, without a word, he began to push her skirts to her hips. It took less than a minute for him to loosen the tapes that held her bustled petticoats in place. They fell in a pool of fabric and wire around her ankles.

"Step," he commanded and she did, mindlessly and without hesitation, first one foot and then the other. He shoved them aside.

She felt branded by the heat radiating from his large hand as it began to slide down her silk encased thigh.

Struggling, she managed to twist her body enough to look at him over her shoulder. She met his burning gaze with surprise "You don't..."

"Scarlett," he removed his hand from her thigh, "if you ever tell me to stop doing this, I will. Will you say stop?"

She swallowed lightly, "No?"

"No?" He smiled, but with very little amusement. He wanted her, of that, she had no doubts. "You're certain?"

"I'm certain," she replied somberly.

"Have you ever thought that you might want this," he asked, his voice was husky as his hands traced the lower curve of her buttocks, "have you ever pictured this? If you had come in this room, I would have taken you, if only you had crossed the threshold. I wouldn't have been able to help myself."

She was shy now, uncertain of how they would proceed or what might be expected of her. "You've pictured this?"

"Since that first afternoon, at Twelve Oaks, I've wanted you since then. If I thought I could have without being hung shortly thereafter, I might have taken you there and then, on the settee in front of the fireplace. God help me, I wanted you and the longer I knew you, I would have done almost anything to get you."

Her vanity flared. "Anything?"

He began to slide her pantalets downs her hips and then her thighs. "Anything." His hands slid back to her hips.

Her senses were swimming but her need to know won out. "Why didn't you ever tell me or at least show me? Once we were married, if you had only shown me something, anything, you could have had my heart."

"I was afraid," he admitted softly, "you were cruel and cold and I thought in the end that you could never love or want me." He laughed softly, as he leaned forward, "Thank God you were so unkind early on Scarlett. I would have moved mountains for you if you had even shown me the slightest bit of encouragement; I would have built you a God damned palace instead of this house if you'd wanted it, just to make you happy."

"I love you Rhett; tell me that you love me, I need to hear it.."

He stroked her lightly between her legs "I swear to you, I love you. I will until the day I-"

She pulled away, twisting to face him, she wrapped her arms around his neck "Stop talking and just kiss me. Please."

Pleased and a little surprised that she was seemingly going to take the assertive role, he obliged. He gave and she took and she relented and he overwhelmed. It was a game of passion that in some ways resembled an emotional tug of war between two people who were not used to bending or yielding to another.

Breaking the kiss, she whispered in his ear "I was so afraid that I'd never get to tell you this," she paused and he waited expectantly waiting to hear, "I love you, I need you" the traditional sentiments offered in the midst of lovemaking but her next words surprised the hell out of him.

"You are," she whispered breathlessly, "the only man I would have married even if he didn't have a dime."

Rhett laughed and cupping her bottom, pulled her closer. "You're lying," he said, pressing her firmly against her.

"You're wrong." She looked into his eyes. "I knew I wanted you in my heart before I could admit it to myself."

"I couldn't see you loving me if I were penniless. You don't do poverty well."

"Who said anything about poverty," she replied, a mock pout on her lips. "I would have just had to figure out a way to make us rich."

He kissed her and then he felt her hesitantly unbuttoning his pants. He wanted her and now, now he would have her. His own typically sure hands fumbled briefly with buttons, but soon they were pushing aside clothes until they were exposed. Sliding her onto the bed, he pushed forward, forcing himself into her body.

He kept a pace of gentle fluttering strokes as he thrust his tongue into her mouth. Moving his lips away from her mouth, he began to kiss her cheeks, her forehead, and then her lips again.

Scarlett was consumed by him. She was on fire everywhere his lips touched. He was burning her with his brand so that everyone in town would know that she, Scarlett O'Hara, belonged to him, only to him. She suddenly felt those warm sensations that she had only felt with Rhett Butler begin in her stomach. Her breaths grew rapid as her heart raced and then she felt her whole body buck against him. Her mind was blank all she could think of was how he was making her feel. Then against her will she cried his name again and then again. Her mind was empty of every other thought, figure or fact. All that was in her mind was the name of the man who was making her feel safe and loved and so very alive.

"Scarlett," Rhett groaned as he began to thrust into her "Scarlett." He slid his lips from hers to her neck, biting where he found her pulse beating throbbing.

"Rhett, oh God please," she begged him, not fully understanding what she was asking for.

"What do you want Scarlett," he asked slowing his strokes, "tell me."

"No" she responded, her head whipping back and forth desperately as the sensations he was evoking flooded her senses with pleasures and emotions she still, after so many years, could not name. "I can't."

Rhett stopped. Leaning over her, he rested his weight on his hands. She could feel him, teasing her. "No, not this" he asked quietly before lowering his lips to her still sensitive nipple.

"Rhett!" Scarlett cried softly, against her will.

He lifted his head "Not if you don't want it Scarlett, never if you don't want it."

She could feel how hard he still was inside her. Rhett Butler was not going to beat her, seduction was a woman's game and she was finally ready to play.

She pulled him toward her face putting her lips to his ear.

She whispered in a purring voice "The whole time, anytime with Frank, I wanted you, imagined you inside me, never opened my eyes because I wanted it to be you," she gasped faintly, trying to catch her breath, she whispered again, "I only wanted to be your's Rhett." Managing to wrap one of her legs tightly around the back of his thigh, she grimaced briefly at a twinge of pain as she pulled him further inside her.

She could feel him shaking, losing the battle against himself.

Struck by her own daring, she jumped…and found that she could fly. She nipped his earlobe gently and whispered one more thing "You want me, then take me."

Crying out her name Rhett thrust into her harder than before; moving again and again even as she began to shake beneath him.

"Oh God, please," she whispered, her breathing harsh and strained.

Rhett screamed her name thrusting into her one last time coming as she came around him, shaking and crying out his name.

Together, still intimately joined, they lay panting in each other's arms, trying to catch their breath.

"Rhett?"

He shook his head "Not now Scarlett."

"You don't know what I want to say."

"It doesn't matter, I know."

"You can't?"

"I do. I'm sorry too."

She turned her head so that she could look in his face. It was open to her now, in a way that she was only just starting to become used to. "How did you know?"

"Because I wish I could take back everything I've ever done to hurt you. Thank you for not giving up on me and running off with A-." He stopped. "Thank you."

Scarlett lay her head on his shoulder "You are welcome. Thank you for loving me again."

"As if I could have really stopped," he scoffed.

After waking a still sleepy Wade, the Butler's made their way downstairs. They stopped in the foyer, each lost in memory.

"Good bye house," said Wade quietly.

Rhett reached out and squeezed the boy's shoulder. "Good bye Atlanta."

Reaching out, Scarlett rested her hand on Wade's other shoulder. "It's not goodbye, it's see you soon."

"It won't be the same," challenged Wade.

"No, it won't be," she agreed, "Nothing ever is but, sometimes things change for the better."

He nodded, "Like us being a family in Charleston?"

"Yes," agreed Scarlett, like us being much closer in Charleston than we were here in Atlanta.

"But there we don't have Bo—Beau," he cautiously substituted.

Their eyes met over his head. Scarlett opened her mouth but it was Rhett who spoke. "She'll be with us, all of us, in our hearts. As long as there is one of us left, we won't be without her Wade. She's with us, everyday, watching over us all."

"Do you believe that," asked Wade hopefully. If Rhett believed that Bonnie was still with them, it would be so, it would have to be so.

"With all my heart Wade, she's with me everyday. Don't you ever feel that she's near?"

He nodded, his eyes lighting up. "Yes, sometimes. I thought I was just being childish, silly to think she could see me."

"Love isn't silly Wade," offered Scarlett quietly.

"Thank you," said Wade, looking at both of his parents, "thank you both."

Going forward, he opened the door for them. "Let's go home, I miss grandmamma and Rosemary, I miss Ella, I think I even miss bossy Caroline."

Scarlett smiled up at Rhett, "My brilliant son is right, take us home."


	160. Fuel for the Fire

**As per the wishes of my readers, and because it was time, we've returned to Charleston. We, dear readers are not the only ones to have returned to Charleston as you will soon see.**

**I missed it by two weeks but I posted the first Facing the Enemy chapter on March 27, 2006. Here I am, on April 10, 2013 7 long years later and still posting. A few setbacks, the loss of two laptops, the fact that I will have to retype so many handwritten pages, finishing undergrad, working on grad school, a divorce, Cassie, and a million little every day things but still writing.**

**Bear with me, it keeps coming. Not as fast as I would like (or as many of you would like), but I always promised I would finish what I started and now that we are back in Charleston, I promise things will be moving faster than they previously were.**

**It's a short chapter, but its officially my birthday and I always post on my birthday so here we are.**

**A chapter, and while it's short, it sets what about to happen next.**

**Hope you all enjoy.**

* * *

Crying out her name happily, Rosemary pulled Scarlett into the drawing room. Glancing in the hallway, she quickly shut the door behind them. Her dark eyes were luminous; glowing with vitality and excitement. Her color was high and standing in her presence, Scarlett could almost forget the bland, plain, bookish young woman Rosemary had once been. This was a young woman in bloom, a garden of colors and beauty bursting into life after long lying dormant under the frost.

Taking her sister in law's hands in her own, she leaned forward and brushed a soft and loving kiss high on Scarlett's cheek. "I never thought the first time you came to this house that I would ever greet you like this but I'm so glad you are home. I'm near to bursting to tell you what's been happening since you left. Of course, as you can see, I missed you, so did mother and Ella…and that God awful dog of yours." Then, her expression became guarded and alittle sly. "Where's Rhett? I didn't hear him come in."

Slowly taking off her gloves, Scarlett try to return Rosemary's smile with a smile of her own, "I've missed you too but you could have at least let me go upstairs. Rhett dropped me here at the house and then he took Wade over to the mines. Something about a telegram he recieved while we were in Atlanta."

"Good, I wanted to talk to you, alone. Please sit down."

"Rosemary, I need a minute. I haven't even had time to lay down my hat and gloves and you've already pounced on me."

"I'm sorry." The sincerity of the apology was negated by Rosemary's merry grin. "I was just dying for you to get home, but I didn't mean to be so rude. Please, go on upstairs; freshen up and change. You must feel coated in dust after your trip. I'll be here when you get back down."

"I didn't mean to sound as if I'm not glad to see you," offered Scarlett abruptly. It was rare that she found herself truly glad to see anyone, and truly, she was glad to see Rosemary. It was strangely pleasing to come into a house that was made a home for her because of the people in it. The last time she'd felt like belonged had been when she'd been the loved and cherished eldest daughter of Gerald and Ellen O'Hara of Tara and the belle of the county. Her family's love for her made her feel younger and lighter than she had in a long time. "I'm glad to be home as well. I missed you, as big a pain as you are, I missed you nevertheless."

Lowering her voice, Rosemary leaned forward. "I have to tell you something, I need your help desperately."

Noticing that Rosemary's appearance was a little less polished then when she was recently under Scarlett's constant supervision she thought, for a spilt second, Rosemary might be seeking additional tutelage, she smiled. "Ah. Here and I thought you were just simply glad to see me."

"I am glad to see you just because you are you. Don't think for a second that I did miss you, the house seems very dull when you aren't in it."

The way her tone of voice changed, it caught her attention. Scarlett, a consummate schemer of old recognized the tone of voice immediately. "What have you done while we were gone," Scarlett asked, suspicion heavy in her voice.

Frowning lightly at the way Scarlett immediately saw through her, Rosemary continued in a rush. "Please, don't be angry with me for pouncing on you the second you arrived but its life or death for me Scarlett. I know that every girl says that when she's in love. I know we all act as if we are the only one that has ever been in love but I need you to manage Rhett for me. I can't and mother won't. Please, you're the only one he might even listen to. I didn't want to involve you, I thought that mother would help and I know now that she won't be any help."

Her suspicions answered, Scarlett sat down heavily on the mirror back sofa.. She studied Rosemary, regarding her warily. "Doctor Cross came back, didn't he?"

Her chin jerked up, resentment at being judged clear in her expression. "He did. Yesterday morning. He came home and the first think he did was send for me. He loves me Scarlett. Please, you have to help me. I wanted to wait for you to come home so that I could ask for your advice."

"Sent for you?" The rest of her words registered, "He wanted you to met him, where?"

Rosemary's eyebrow rose slightly and her smile became cool. Without warning, it was as though Rhett was standing before her. The Butler siblings in many ways were more alike than they were different. "Oh for heaven's sake, don't look at me like that. I would have expected something different from you, not judgment. Not from you of all people." When Scarlett said nothing, Rosemary continued, her tone becoming sharp. "You are judging me? You, of all people? Scarlett "the devil may care" Butler, sitting in judgment of me? Well, you just put your fears aside, nothing untoward happened. My honor is entirely intact and unsullied."

The pit of her stomach felt like she had swallowed a chuck of ice. Knowing the answer, Scarlett asked, hoping she was wrong, "Where did you see him?

A small, smug smile that formed, "For the love of God, you didn't go to see him at his house, for the love of God," she repeated, horror creeping into her voice, "Rosemary, you are going to destroy your reputation and your family with it."

She tossed her head, annoyed by the condemnation in Scarlett words and expression. "No I won't. Even if someone found me there, it would just give us a reason to marry sooner rather then later."

"Marry," she choked on the word, "you can't be serious? Tell me that you're teasing me? You must be? You hardly know each other, how could you be speaking of marriage so prematurely?"

"Says pot to kettle."

It was her turn to become defensive. "I knew your brother for years before we married."

"That may be true but how long did you know Wade's father? Didn't you marry him a week after you met?"

It was Scarlett's turn to take the defensive route. "Not that it's any of your business, but you are woefully misinformed by your sources. To correct that, I will tell you that I may have married Charlie two weeks after he asked, but his cousins were my neighbors and I'd known him since we were children."

"That makes it alright then," retorted Rosemary tartly.

Pressing a palm to her now aching head, Scarlett blinked rapidly, trying to push back the headache forming. "Think Rosemary, why would someone who hates Rhett and the Butler family as much as Jason Cross does want to marry his enemy's sister? Why else would he even want to but to hurt him, to hurt this family."

Rosemary's face was the color of new milk except for two frenetic blotches of color that singed her cheeks crimson with anger. "Oh I see, poor and plain Rosemary Butler. I may as well be chained in the attic at the Landing since I am so obviously unfit to look upon. Is it so hard for you to consider that a man could want me just for myself? You look at me and think that the only reason a man might want me is for revenge? Are you really so shallow that you can't see anyone else as worthy of attention besides yourself?"

"Don't you dare put words in my mouth-"

"I don't have to; you are doing a perfect job of putting your foot in your mouth instead."

Rage brought her to her feet. She felt a pull in her hip but she refused to grip the head of her cane or the arm of the couch. Standing on her own two feet, she meet Rosemary's stony gaze with her own. "That isn't what I said and you damn well know it. Step off your soap box and join me in the real world, won't you? You are a beautiful young woman from a very good family. You are smart, maybe too smart for your own good. Any man would want you."

Softening slightly, she shook her head. "I don't want any man, I want Jason."

Sighing softly, Scarlett retook her seat. She patted the cushion next to her and Rosemary reluctantly joined her. "Even if that wanting makes Jason kill your brother, even if it makes him kill Jason? Is the way you feel worth more spilt blood? It can't be Rosemary. I understand, he's turned your head. He is charming, I will grant you that but, he isn't the only man in Charleston. He isn't the only man in the world. You could go abroad, like you wanted to. You would see the world, see things beyond here. You might meet someone, someone suitable, someone the family could welcome with open arms."

Coming to her feet, Rosemary moved towards the fireplace. Her spine straightened and then she turned to face her still seated sister in law. "Jason Cross is suitable to everyone in the world except your pigheaded husband."

She glared at Rosemary, her eyes moving back and forth over Rosemary's face. "You are acting like a spoiled brat who has been told no but is determined to get her way and damn the cost. You are going to spark another round of violence between the Crosses and the Butlers. Your mother, Rhett, Sally; everyone has told me about the bad blood between your families. It goes back nearly a century Rosemary."

"So," cried Rosemary ferociously, "just spit it out Scarlett, say what you're thinking." She drew nearer; looking Scarlett full in the face, the look in her eyes was fiercely triumphant at the idea that she was challenging the formidable Scarlett O'Hara. "Say it," she howled.

"This," Scarlett said slowly and then her face contorted suddenly, as if she were sickened by the thought she was trying, "you and Jason, it is going to be fuel to restart a fire."

There was something dreadful in her dark eyes; her expression was hard and cruel. This was the face that Rhett had shown her in their darkest hours together and now it was Rosemary's turn. "Then let it burn."


	161. Everything she ever wanted

**The next chapter is the moment so many have been waiting for, the return of the good doctor himself, Dr. Jason Cross. Hard to believe in real time it's been over a year since we last saw him.**

The room was stifling. Tugging at the collar to her traveling dress, Scarlett wished that it were permissible to wear low necked, sleeveless dresses whenever she so chose. The dress she wore was beautifully made but she felt encased, like a specimen under glass. Her traveling dress was a beautiful light green taffeta with bands and darts of a darker green silk on the skirt and bodice. Her cuffs and collar were of the same dark green. Rhett had insisted that she wear something other than the black she'd been drowning in while they visited Atlanta and she had reluctantly complied.

She was wealthy and married to a man who was rich beyond her wildest dreams but she would consider herself truly fortunate if she could only go upstairs and slip out of her confining dress with it's now slightly crushed boxed peplum and laughing moon bustled skirt. Possibly, once she extracted herself from the half a dozen layers of clothing she was currently wearing, she could take a bath.

Yes, she thought longingly, a bath, that's what she wanted more than anything. She could picture the large tub filled with cool, clear water. Water in which she could drown Rhett's obstinate, pig headed sister.

Trying to banish thoughts of impromptu murder from her mind, she spoke steadily. "Rosemary, you can't mean that."

Rosemary shook her head emphatically. "I refuse to bend because of stupidity and I know Jason feels the same way. You know how I feel, this isn't the first time discussed we've had about this."

"It has become the only thing we talk about," snapped Scarlett.

"Then why can't you understand; I want Jason Cross, I love Jason Cross, and if he asks, I am going to marry Jason Cross and no one is going to stop me."

Scarlett drew herself up to her full, less than substantial height. Raising her head, she stood painfully erect. The look in her beautiful green eyes was disdainful; she studied Rosemary, challenging her to meet her gaze. She did for nearly a minute until she was forced to lower her eyes.

"Rosemary?"

Rosemary did not reply.

"Rosemary, look at me." Rosemary refused to comply but Scarlett would not be deterred. "You can still escape this mess you've made," persisted Scarlett. "Rhett would never have to know," and then, unexpectedly, she reached out her soft, white hand and seized Rosemary's right wrist in a grasp so sudden and so fierce that this random act of brutality stunned Rosemary.

Yanking hard, she attempted to wrench herself from Scarlett's grasp.

"Scarlett, let me go," cried Rosemary.

"No, not until you listen. I thought I had gotten through to you but now I think you are so caught up in the drama of it all that you can't see what's real and what is a fantasy." The words flew from her lips before she could stop them.

Rosemary went pale, her lips clamped together until they turned white. "I am sorry you feel that way," said Rosemary, rubbing her wrist, "I am glad you are home, or at least I was until you manhandled me just now. I thought I could count on you, clearly I can't. All I can ask is that you keep what you know to yourself. Please. I am sure you will since you seem to be so desperate to avoid conflict and confrontation."

"Rosemary, wait-"

"Actually, I know you won't say a thing because then Rhett would know you've been helping me hide my feelings for Jason. Don't be a fool Scarlett, you finally have my brother back; don't ruin it by suddenly finding some kernel of nobility in yourself. You'll only regret it when Rhett lashes out at you...which, he will. He can't help himself."

"I care about you so much, like a sister—"

"And that's a good thing? No offense but according to you, you aren't exactly the best of sisters."

"Rosmary,-"

But she was already gone. The sound of her feet, quick and sure, on the front stairs indicated her direction but Scarlett was loath to follow her for what would just be another round of accusations, pleas, and arguing.

She realized that desperate situations required desperate handling, and though she trembled inwardly at the thought of what she would have to do next, she saw no better course than that which her frenzied and frightened mind had conceived.

Sitting on the sofa, she released a shuddering sigh. Everything Rosemary wanted was wrong for her, for the family. She was such a.., she hesitated, searching for the proper word. Such a Butler her mind reluctantly supplied.

The door creaked quietly and Scarlett looked up expecting to find Rosemary. It was Penny who came into the room.

"Miss Scarlet" she said, "what are you doing in here? I went upstairs to see if you were looking to lay dow—"

"Your cousin works for Doctor Cross," probed Scarlett, "you told me that you've been to his house, it's near here, isn't it? I need you to take me there, now."

For a moment neither spoke. Scarlett was the first to break the silence.

"Let me be clear, by now I mean this very minute."

Penny watched her mistress cautiously, as one would watch a dog that was suspected of turning rabid. "Are you not feeling well Miss Scarlett," offered Penny, trying to change the course of the conversation. "I could run over and get Doctor Cross, if you need him," replied Penny.

"I am very well," said Scarlett, gritting her teeth into a grimace that might have been very nearly called a smile.

Again there was silence for a moment.

"Is this about Miss Rosemary?" asked the girl reluctantly.

Scarlett's eyes narrowed and she leaned forward, her gaze boring straight into the eyes of the young colored maid. "Why would you ask me that?"

"Tia works for Doctor Cross. She said he's been writing to Miss Ginny and she's been writing him even more than usual. She also said he was looking to remake some of the house. Tia said he hired a man to work outside; he wants to put some flower gardens in since he already has a whole garden just for doctoring herbs. A man who acts like that, he's acting toward bringing home a bride. A man who is writing his sister nearly every other day, he's looking to bring home a bride he thinks she won't approve of."

To acknowledge that she was disconcerted by the knowledge that Tia and Penny both knew about Doctor Cross and Rosemary would jeopardize her ability to seize the upper hand. She needed Penny if she was to have any chance of escaping the house to go speak with Doctor Cross. Her one hope seemed, then, to lie in holding her head high and to keep the tremor of fear she felt from her voice. She would get Penny to take her to Doctor Cross and then send her home so that the girl could cover her absence somehow. She would just have to depend upon the accidents of the future to open a way to return home and sneak in unnoticed.

"You, your cousin Tia," Scarlett paused, "have you mentioned this to anyone besides each other? To Carlen perhaps?"

"Miss I tole," she heard the slip and corrected it immediately, "I told you over at the Landing. I am loyal. You can trust me to be discreet. I am not running around Charleston telling this family's business. I promise you. Tia and I, we tell each other everything. I am sorry because I know you're angry but I won't tell. I promise."

Scarlett listened in silence. How much of Penny's promises could be taken at face value. Could she safely believe Penny? She did not know; but she was not inclined to cross-question the young girl too minutely. Seeing Penny open her mouth to speak again, Scarlet held up her hand to stop her. A smile touched her red lips.

"I believe you and in any case, if I thought you were going to run and tell tales, I would become quite angry with you," she cautioned Penny. "Besides could you imagine that anyone in Charleston would credit such ridiculous a tale? Rosemary Butler and Doctor Jason Cross; in love? It sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud, don't you agree?"

"Yes Miss Scarlett, I surely do agree. If you want to go, let's leave now. I heard Miss Eleanor when she left earlier to take Miss Ella calling, she will be back by 4:30. You'll need to be here before that. Do you know where Captain Butler is?"

"The mines. He took Wade because I said I was tired after the trip. I expect them around 4:30 as well."

"It's nearly two now, if we going, then it need to be now or not at all."

Her hip was throbbing and there was a stich in her side but Scarlett took a shallow breath and learned against the small gate leading to the path to Doctor Cross's office.

"Miss Scarlett, you sure you want to do this, you don't look so good."

"It's just been a while since I've walked any sort of distance."

"We walked two blocks Miss Scarlett," replied the girl uncertainly.

"I know it doesn't seem that far to you but all of last week we took a carriage so I never walked continuously. I promise, I'm fine. Now, listen closely. I need you to go back to the house and if anyone asks for me, keep them away from my room."

"Miss Scarlett! I can't keep Cap'n Butler out of your room. He won't listen to me."

She sighed, irritated. The girl was right. "Alright, tell them I just stepped out for a breath of air."

Penny's eyes narrowed. "Ain't no one gonna believe that."

"Well you will have to make them. And please, for the love of heaven, don't say it was any more than five minutes or ten minutes before whoever is asking asked."

"My head is whirling. What do you-"

"Don't let anyone know how long I've been gone," Scarlett cut the maid off.

"I'll try."

"Don't try," warned Scarlett, "just do."

Scarlett's dress in this chapter is in my head this, .


	162. A house call to the good doctor

**Just a well, a tease I guess but I thought you all might enjoy it. The good news is, after I make some corrections and edit alittle, there will be a new chapter either Thursday or Friday. I used to, many years back, post every Thursday. I would like to get back to that this summer and then, in the fall, go to every other week. I really would like to finish this story in the next year. I don't know if I can, but I am going to try to move it along.  
**

Waiting until Penny was around the corner and out of sight, Scarlett heavily relied on her stick to make her way to the door to Doctor Cross's office. Thank heaven for Penny; she thought. Without her, she would have been at a definite disadvantage. This was not the time to be anything less than strong, invincible, unconquerable by the likes of Doctor Jason Cross.

He was no fool. She acknowledged that reluctantly. He was bright and even when he was sitting quietly and looking distracted, he was taking in everything around him; storing it for later use. If he saw any chinks in her armor, he would take advantage. No matter what, she refused to fall pawn to a man, especially to one who was so cocky and self-assured.

Love, love, love. That was the only emotion Rosemary seemed to be able to express when it came to Jason Cross. No plans for the future that she could name, not consideration of what it would mean to be a doctor's wife. Rosemary hardly seemed cast in the mold of women like Mrs. Meade or Granny Fountaine.

To be the wife of a physician, as far as Scarlett could see, was often thankless. It meant long nights alone while your husband struggled with a new mother or laid an old one to rest. It might mean laboring as a nurse when times were difficult or even when they weren't because a qualified second set of hands might not be available when a knock came at two in the morning.

Rosemary was so caught up in the fairytale, she couldn't see that even Cinderella eventually had to hang up her slippers and get down to the duties of the wife of the Prince. In her case that probably meant waving to the peasants and distributing gifts to other princesses and foreign dignitaries which didn't sound so bad but probably became boring and repetitive after awhile.

Focus, she mentally scolded herself. Do what you came to do and then get home before anyone notices you've left.

Swaying slightly, she stepped up on tiptoe, and balancing her weight on one palm and her cane, she peered through the bullet paned window into Doctor Cross's small office. She could see Doctor Cross, head bent, busily writing at his desk. He seemed relaxed and intent on whatever he was writing. If she hoped to catch him off balance, this was her chance.

Angling herself to the right of the door so that he couldn't immediately see her, she rapped sharply on the door. Glancing down at her still balled hand, she realized that she'd left without her gloves. A nervous giggle bubbled to her lips, but she swiftly suppressed it. Still, it was amusing; once again, she was caught out as being on a less than ladylike mission because of a lack of gloves. At least she had remembered to make sure her hat was firmly pinned in place. The gloves he might not notice but if she had come bareheaded, it was just like him to notice.

The door opened, and moving a step back, she stood ramrod straight, quickly gathering her wits and her strength.

His expression instantly changed at the sight of her. A smile began to form on his lips and he opened the door wide. "Scarlett," he smiled now, seemingly pleased to see her.

Here he was, the snake her garden of Eden, greeting her warmly, as one would greet a dear, long absent friend. "What a pleasan—"

It was the agreeable and welcoming smile that fired her powder keg temper. What a smug, arrogant bastard this man was. Here he was, all but destroying the hard won, all too fragile tranquility in her family and he was smiling. Smiling! Well, she thought, she would show him just what she thought of him.

"You!" Thrusting her hand out, Scarlett shoved, hard. Catching him completely unaware, she pushed against Dr. Cross's chest. The unexpected force sent him back, stumbling awkwardly across his own threshold. Words tumbled from her lips as she came in after him, "I can't believe what a scheming, nasty, son of a bitch you turned out to be."

Rallying quickly, he shut the door behind her. It was only then, hearing the click of the brass hardware, she considered that this might not have been one of her brightest ideas.


	163. The Doctor is In

**Sorry you all had to wait. I encountered some real life issues but here is a new chapter, as promised. There will be another coming in the next 7 days or so. I really hope that the long awaited return of Doctor Cross doesn't disappoint. **

**Is he a villain? Possibly. Is he misunderstood? Could be. Is he just a Doctor who wants to love and be loved by Rosemary...**

**All shall be revealed...**

**In time.**

**Anyone think they have the good Doctor pegged?**

* * *

Shutting the door behind her, Dr. Cross bowed briefly, pointedly ignoring her outburst. "Scarlett, please won't you come in," he murmured softly, "Allow me to amend my earlier greeting Scarlett. To what do I owe this unpleasant surprise?"

He found her presence unpleasant? After all of the anxiety and strain his very existence was causing her he dared find her presence unpleasant? How dare he! "Unpleasant," she barked furiously, her voice rising in the still quiet of his study. Her emerald eyes flashed furiously while her cheeks flushed. With her heightened color and wild, angry eyes, he had never seen her look so vital, so very alive.

"I believe that is what I said."

It was a relief to let it all out, just as it had been when she had clashed with India in Atlanta. Pretending to be Scarlett Butler, demure wife, considerate daughter in law, and devoted mother was wearing on her. This was her true self; bold, brash, and impulsive. Now she was back in Charleston and her true self would have to be shoved beneath layers and layers of self-imposed conventions. Here and now, she was a butterfly, struggling from the confines of a cocoon until she could spread her wings. Catching herself, she tried to keep her voice even and calm when she continued. "You think it's unpleasant to see me? My heart breaks for you, but just keep in mind how I feel seeing you right now."

His lips formed a small smile but it disappeared before she could really be sure it was there. "I just had someone barge into my home calling me all sorts of unpleasant things but you want me to consider how you feel?" He shook his head as though he were dismissing an errant child. "Scarlett, you've put yourself in my orbit, not the other way around." His lips parted and then he did smile, faintly, just showing his teeth. "I think I have a right to be displeased when someone assaults me on my own door step, don't you agree?" He cut her off swiftly before she could form an answer, "Though perhaps not. Maybe, in your mind, one should always be glad to see Scarlett Butler. Had I been asked that question not five minutes ago, I would have agreed. So, let's come to a point, why are you so angry?"

She feigned indifference, "Are you really trying to pretend you don't know why I am so angry? You are pretending as if don't have the right to be furious with you. You think I should just ignore when someone uses me, uses me being ill and helpless, as an opportunity to hurt my family. You can't really think that I would just stand aside, that I would ignore you and let you go after my family without a word of protest?"

The merriment left his expression. He was serious now, his expression had changed. He was concerned and there was compassion in his eyes. In anyone else, she would have considered that she might have overreacted but now, after long consideration while in Atlanta, she saw the truth about him. She had to face the facts as they were, this was a dangerous man. Her happiness and that of her family was at his mercy.

Doctor Cross spoke gently. "Scarlett, that isn't fair and you know it. I have never used you. I admit, wrongly so, I asked for help once with Captain Butler and when you refused, I accepted that refusal. If you recall, I promised that I would never overstep again and then I apologized for presuming."

"You meant to use me from the start," she declared, flushing vividly.

"No," he stated emphatically, a lock of hair slipping into his eyes. He brusquely raked it back, giving him a tousled look that might have been boyish in another man. "You are being terribly unfair. I have been a good doctor to you. When you needed someone to talk to, I was there and before I left to see my patient, I thought possibly we were becoming something like friends. Now I find you here, angry with me and I don't know what's brought this on? Who have you been talking to, what is it that you think I've done?"

"You did use me, don't deny it," she cried indignantly, ignoring his pained expression. Taking a step back, her skirts whispered softly and the scent of lilac and lemon verbena permeated the air. "Why don't you just admit it, you never cared whether I got better or not. You pretended you did, but you lied to me. All you have ever done was lie to me. I tried to see the best in you no matter what Rhett said but every word from your lips about helping me was a lie. I thought—yes, I admit it, I thought I could trust you but it's clear I can't."

Wounded by her words, he lashed out at her before he could stop himself. "Who are you to say these things to me, you-," He flinched but rallied quickly. "I am your doctor. I didn't seek you out to care for you, Rosemary asked me to come and I did. You were hurt and sick and I came to help you because that is what I do. I help people in need, even you."

"Then it must be a relief that I no longer need your help. Stay away from me and from my family, or I promise you that you will come to regret having ever come back to Charleston.

"Do you still want to carry through on your plan to give Captain Butler a child," he questioned bluntly. She gasped softly. "Don't bother, the answer is yes and we both know it. I promised you that I would care for you, that I would help you, and I have thus far kept my word to you. Deny it if you think you can but we both know that I have. I told you that you can trust me and now-."

He lowered his voice, trying to calm her, "I need to know what has changed? You have known about my feelings for Rosemary from the start. Why are you so ready to convict me for wrong doing, what I am defending myself from; specifically, what it is you think I've done to hurt you?" He reached out and lightly touched her right, gloveless hand. The warmth of his skin was nearly electrifying and she flinched before moving her hand away. "Please, tell me what I can do to show you that I am not some monster."

She would not be mollified. The long week spent in Atlanta, the tensions between her and Rhett before they left, the fear that he would find out about Rosemary and Doctor Cross; it was all too much. "You told me you would help me, that you wanted me to be well again but it was all a lie," she yelled. "You didn't give a damn if I ever walked again; you only cared about hurting my family. I was a means to an end, you needed me to ensnare Rosemary and you've succeeded. She doesn't care about anything but you. You would have let me die if you needed to use that to integrate yourself into her life-"

Color suffused his face. "That is not true. How dare you say that to me. For the record, even when you are acting like a spoiled child, as you are now, I do care about you; I care about all of my patients."

"That may be—"

"That is!" His voice rose and he didn't care. No one had dared to speak to him like this in years. Lashing out with a passion he had been until that minute unaware he possessed, he knocked a stack of books from his desk. They slammed the floor in a series of loud bangs that made them both recoil.

"Is that supposed to scare me," she taunted.

Resting his palm on the now empty corner of his desk, he leaned heavily. He looked tired, defeated. "No, but it frightened me. I am never angry and you in ten minutes have managed to make me lose myself." Looking up, he studied her quietly. "Why are you doing this to me, what cause have I given you to come and say these things to me? I try constantly; I have never turned anyone away who has needed my help. I went to your bedside when asked even though it meant helping the wife of the man who killed my brother and ruined my sister."

A fact she had forgotten. It was true, that he had overlooked her Butler name to come and help her. She wanted to believe that was the reason he came to her but was it possible, had he really come to help because he was a doctor and he would not turn anyone in need away? It was so confusing. If only he didn't want Rosemary. If he were already married to someone else, she might be able to take him at his word but he had so much to gain if he could convince her to believe in him. Her head was swimming from exhaustion and anger.

"I went because you needed help and you were innocent in all of this. What did it matter the name, you mattered. Rosemary said you were sick and that I needed to come because she was afraid you were dying." He shook his head, as if trying to clear it. "No one has ever accused me of not caring and doing the best I can for my patients, I…I have never just stood by when I could help."

He seemed exposed, wounded by her anger but she could not waiver. "Please, don't try to play the injured party, it doesn't suit you one bit. Would you really deny that you care much more for the patients who have sister in laws that you want to seduce?"

Frustration was clear in his face and movements. "I don't want to seduce her, stop being such a fool, " he said, his voice was low and rough.

"Don't call me a fool," she countered.

"Then stop acting like one." Doctor Cross was not overly comfortable with showing emotion but under the continued barrage of accusations from Scarlett his normally civil exterior was cracking. "You need to listen to me, I do not want to ruin Rosemary, I am not plotting against you family. I want to marry Rosemary; I love her."

Shrugging her shoulders, she gingerly settled herself on his settee. "I am sorry to say that you can't," she replied acerbically, "so you should come to terms and move on. I am sure that in all of Charleston there is someone just perfect for you. She is someone smart, witty, and pretty; but most importantly, she is someone who is not a member of a family who has shot anyone near and dear to you. That girl, I am sure she exists." She smiled brightly, her green eyes glittering, "And as you say we are friends so I shall even help you look."

"That isn't going to happen," he countered, his voice uneven with anger at how presumptuous she was being. "Madame Scarlett had decreed and mere mortals are supposed to yield and bend? The world doesn't always seek to fall to its knees and obey you. Captain Butler might, I certainly won't."

"You can't love her," cried Scarlett furiously, "you don't even really know her."

He shook his head. Stalling for time to bring his rage under control, he took a breath. Removing his glasses; he placed them on the desk. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he replaced his spectacles. "Scarlett, that isn't for you to judge."

"It is completely for me to judge, there's no one else who can. Rosemary is so love sick she can't see straight. You hate my husband. I know that you do."

"I don't hate Rosemary and I don't hate you. Do you at least believe that?"

She looked away, sighing. "I am of two minds. I will admit to that alone. I am so afraid that I misjudged you. You offered to help me and I appreciated that offer. But then, I look again and all I can see is that you hate Rhett so much that you would do anything to hurt him. I think you would seek to hurt him even if that means destroying my family."

He reached out his hands, palm up as if to prove symbolically he was without weapons. "No, that isn't so. I don't like your husband, I admit that freely but I can't afford to hurt him. I want to build my own family. That family just happens to include a member of your family."

"Please don't do this," she pleaded softly, "don't hurt us. We spoke about this, that day you came to see me and I told you everything about losing my baby and wanting another. You promised you wouldn't hurt—

Halfheartedly, he held up one hand. "Don't, please. Don't try to put words in my mouth, you were angry with me, we spoke at length about my feelings for Rosemary and your concerns about a baby. The only thing I promised was that I would keep you out of my courting Rosemary. I also, if you recall, promised to help you should you decide to attempt to conceive another child, do you remember that? I thought we were…well, perhaps not friends, but I thought that we were honest with each other, I thought you believed you could trust me."

"I don't know what I can believe about you but I do know this, I know what Rhett did to your family. I know you blame him for what became of Virginia; I know that my husband killed your brother. I know how angry you must be, how you must blame him for so much. You must hate him and you have to want to hurt him, but I am begging you; please leave us alone."

"Scarlett," his blue eyes without his glasses looked warmer than she had ever previously seen them, "please, I need you to believe me. I need to know that Rosemary has you on her side. Her mother will side with Rhett; she's too much a traditional Charleston lady not to, but you? You know there is more to life than outdated views on what a lady must and mustn't do. From what you've told me about your life, you've seized what you need and when you need it, why shouldn't Rosemary?"

Rubbing her finger lightly over a crease in her skirt, she finally lifted her head. There was regret in her eyes and resignation in her expression. "Because she can't, sooner or later, we can't always have what we want when we want it."

"She's a determined young lady Scarlett and she is determined to have me. You are married to a Butler, do they know the meaning of the word "no."

"Maybe not previously, but in this case, one of them may be about to learn it."

A hesitant voice spoke from the doorway to the main house, "Doctor Cross?"

Rising quickly to her feet, Scarlett stood next to Doctor Cross. Tia, Doctor Cross's housekeeper, stood watching them from in the doorway.

"Doctor Cross, I'm sorry to botha ya, but Cap'n Butler is here to see ya."

A soft gasp escaped Scarlett's lips, "Oh mother of God, its Rhett."

She looked up at him, her emerald eyes wide, holding a flicker of fear. "He can't find me here."


	164. On a shelf

**Please excuse my very poor French, high school is a rather long time ago for me and I did the best I could with the assistance of the internet.**

**I had been meaning to post but things had regretfully come up. I only posted tonight because of a review from a new reader, South678 this chapter is totally for you. I will say this to you, I only killed Scarlett once, I don't have a history of it. Your fear of that totally inspired a line in this chapter. Thanks for reading, your Helen review made me laugh out loud.**

* * *

"Tia, tell the Captain I shall be with him momentarily and shut the door behind you." Turning to Scarlett, Jason's eyes narrowed, his face wiped clean of emotion. "He isn't here for you?"

She shook her head, looking down.

"Scarlett!"

"No, he doesn't know I'm here" she whispered, lifting her head. Her green eyes, meeting his, were wide and soft. "Jason, I'm—"

"He doesn't know you came to see me?" Understanding dawned and catching her by the arms, he forced her to meet his angry gaze, "Does anyone know you're here?"

In a panic, she reached out her hand before quickly pulling it back. "Just Penny, she walked over with me. I told her to leave, so that no one would see her outside and figure out that I was here. I told her that I could find my wa—"

"Are you insane," Jason whispered furiously, shaking her again. "You came here, to see me of all people and no one knows you're here? Do you know how this looks?" He released her and running his hand through his hair, he muttered under his breath. "Holy Christ, what have you done?"

"Jason, please…"

"Please what? After what's happened between my family and your husband's? You have been home less than a few hours and you came straight here? Don't know what people will think? At best, it looks as if I'm trying to seduce you or worse, I've already succeeded!"

Grabbing his arm, she tugged it until she had his attention. "Yell at me later, it's not important right now," she told him, "just hide me."

He handled her roughly his usually genteel manner had vanished. Quickly, sliding his hands up to take her by the shoulders; he pushed her toward a door. "Go, wait in my little study. Don't make a sound. If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not be another notch on your husband's gun belt."

"Rhett wouldn't shoot you," she protested, "To my knowledge, he only shot one Cross, it's not as though he's made a practice of it."

"Don't be a fool, as you say, he already shot one Cross, what's another in the grand scheme of things?"

Before she could answer, he closed the heavy oak door in her face.

"Bastard," she muttered softly.

Pressing her ear to the door, she could only just hear their voices, faintly murmuring, as if from a distance. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't hear a word of the conversation. She had been a fool. Now that she was alone and trapped for the time being, she could admit it to herself. She had come to Jason Cross's house the first instant she could after she and Rosemary argued. For good measure, she had come without the knowledge of her husband or anyone else for that matter.

He would know she was up to no good the second he looked at her. She had never been particularly good at being furtive when it came to hiding things from Rhett. There had never been a real need. The only big secret she previously felt the need to hide from the world was that she had been in love with someone else and of course, Rhett had already known that. Sighing softly, she reluctantly acknowledged that nearly everyone knew that secret.

She shivered despite the warmth of the room. If he were to find her here, in a meeting with a man he hated, she couldn't help but be terrified of discovery. She was in danger and it wasn't up to her to save herself. From over a decade, she had depended on herself for survival. Now, her fate was suddenly in someone else's hands, a thought that made her decidedly uncomfortable when she considered the person those hands belonged to.

Doctor Cross was going to have to help her if she was to avoid discovery. If only it could be anyone but him. Still, he had risen to the challenge and concealed her with very little fuss.

She smiled as she reached up to remove her hat. Tossing it on a small table, she glanced around, looking for a mirror while considering Jason Cross. He was arrogant and she could never really trust him, but she would say this for him, he knew how to rise to an occasion.

Looking around, Scarlett found a mirror hanging next to a book shelf. Patting her hair into a semblance of order, she looked on the book shelf. There, on a middle shelf, sat a small, tinted daguerreotype.

Picking it up, her eyes widened. There, her hand resting proprietarily on the shoulder of a small boy stood a woman with a strangely familiar face. Familiar in that it was a face that Scarlett saw nearly every morning in her own mirror.

Releasing a breath she wasn't even aware she was holding, Scarlett studied the woman in the picture. At long last, she thought, Virginia Cross.

They were not exact duplicates. Virginia's clothes were from before the war, her skirts were wide and her hairstyle with its heavy ringlets looked a little dated but looking closely, Scarlett could find distinct physical similarities between them. The shape of their faces was comparable, they both had similar smiles, and their eyes were both framed by long lashes. Even the way Virginia held herself, the way she tilted her head slightly so that she could watch her young charge while looking at the camera…the boy, it was Jason.

He was young, very young; ten, possibly eleven years old. Even as a boy he was serious. He looked shy, a little unhappy to be standing still for what must have seemed like an eternity to a young boy. His expression was strange, even as a boy, his expression was largely unfathomable. What could have happened in the past of that little boy that caused his to look so alone even when he stood next to an obviously doting sister?

The open gaze, the unruly curly locks, and the small half smile that threatened to appear on his lips…what had happened to those things when he had grown to manhood? The wide variety of ingratiating ways which we bring with us out of infancy, none of those remained now with Jason Cross. His innocence has fled, but surely the little half smile still existed somewhere in his adult self.

Curiosity caught her. If she had already violated one corner of his privacy, why not make the most of her distinct lapse in manners. After a;;, who knew just how long would she be locked in this airless space, she thought irritably. Making her way to the desk, she glanced at the pile of papers on it. The top page and its very familiar handwriting caught her immediate attention.

_My dearest Jason, _

_It has only been a week since you've left me but…_

Skimming the rest of it, she cringed.

Rosemary.

Damn her, damn her selfish soul to hell.

The contents of her letter made it clear; this was no schoolgirl crush that would die out given time. Rosemary was in love, or a reasonable proximity. She wouldn't give Jason Cross up without a fight. She was also awkward and graphic all at the same time in her professions of love for the good doctor. In another situation, these letters might have made her chuckle a little but considering the source and recipient, she flinched.

Rifling through the other letters, she found another that was worn and had obviously been handled and re-handled. This letter was in French. For a minute, she thought it could be from Rosemary as the flowing script was very feminine, but the signature was not Rosemary's.

Swiftly, she cured herself for being such a poor student when Ellen tried to teach her French. Still, she could muddle through a few words; after all, she'd taken it at the Ladies Academy in Fayetteville.

_Chère Jason_,

Dear Jason, she thought with a satisfied smirk. That was simple enough. Her brow furrowed.

_Comment Je t'aime, mon chéri garçon._

Something about loving the boy, probably that his sister loved him. Nothing too shocking there, from what Penny had told her the night of Rhett's homecoming, Virginia Cross idolized her younger brother.

_Chaque lettre de vous, c'est un triomphe doux pour moi. _

Letters? What a busy correspondent Jason Cross must be, she thought snidely. Between scribbling to his sister and Rhett's, it was a wonder he had any time for doctoring.

_Vous êtes un homme merveilleux et un médecin_.

Vous means you, she was sure of that. Homme meant man. Etes meant…her brow furrowed. Is? No. "Are!" she exclaimed, êtes means are." She dropped the letter and glanced toward the door. Had they heard her? It had been quiet for a long time, had Rhett left? No, if he'd left, Dr. Cross would have come for her.

What was Virginia saying? Why did it matter? It was a letter from brother to sister, but maybe it mentioned Rosemary or what his plans were. She continued to muddle through. Merveilleux was something she knew, or thought she knew. It was in the masses Ellen would recited at Tara. Something about Christ's birth. Marvelous! It meant Marvelous.

Pride welled up in her breast. Despite the fact it had been years since she'd studied French or heard her mother speak it, it was still there, buried deep in her brain.

So Virginia was telling her brother he was some sort of marvelous man. No wonder he had such a swelled head, with praise like that being constantly heaped on him by an obviously overindulgent older sister.

_Les habitants de Charleston sont tellement chanceux de vous avoir. J'y repense, tous les jours, à votre enfance. _

Something about Charleston, the bulk of the sentence was a mystery to her. If she considered the previous section, it was probably something about how wonderful Jason was and how lucky all of Charleston was to have him.

_Vous étiez comme un bébé doux, mon petit amour. _

Something about you and love, petit amour was little love.

_Vous étiez la seule tache lumineuse dans ma vie, ma seule étoile brillante dans la nuit noire._

Brillante had to be brilliant. You're brilliant, reasoned Scarlett. It was a wonder Virginia hadn't caught a husband; she was certainly good at sweet talking a man.

Quand vous venez me voir, j'ai quelque choix je dois vous dire. C'est un secret qui m'a profondément honte, que les larmes de mon âme immortelle en morceaux. Je me demande, aussi brillante que vous êtes, avez-vous jamais soupçonné le véritable lien qui existe entre nous?

C'est un secret? Secret was the same in both French and English, she thought. Virginia Cross was telling her brother she had a secret, but what about? Or was she referring to a secret Jason Cross was keeping?

Rosemary.

Was the secret the Cross siblings were referring to about Rosemary. She could not make out anything else except brilliant again and you.

_ Venez à moi, dès que vous le pouvez, je ne peux plus le risque face à l'immortalité avec le secret que je porte sur mon âme. Je tiens à demander les sacrements, mais j'ai cessé de croire en Dieu si longtemps quand j'étais perdu de sa vue par mon violation et de la dégradation. Venez à moi afin que je puisse regarder le visage de la personne que j'aime le plus dans le monde._

Risque? A risk? Jason was risking everything by going after Rosemary? She would feel better about her translation if the name "Rosemary" appeared at all in the letter. The sacraments! Holy mother in heaven, she thought. "Demander les sacrements" could mean something about demanding the sacraments, specifically the sacrament of marriage.

"Mon violation et de la degradation? Violation? Degradation? Were the Cross siblings planning to somehow disgrace Rhett's sister? How could Rosemary have willing drawn them into such a fix?

That damned girl. There was nothing worse than a dowdy girl who suddenly found herself to be pretty after all. Her head had been turned by a man who wouldn't have looked twice at her.

Only, maybe he would have looked twice.

Damn them both.

_Je tiens à vous voir, que souhaitez, vous pouvez remplir pour moi. Mon autre souhait, pour voir Rosevale. Le jour où vous père est mort, je me suis réjoui. Je l'admets. Enfin, il avait disparu et je pouvais être libre. Comment j'ai aimé Rosevale, je visite dans mes rêves. Rêves dans lequel vous êtes un petit garçon et nous sommes un pique-nique sur le fleuve._

Something about Rosevale, their now abandoned plantation across the river. Nothing else stood out to her. It would seem, she'd exhausted her short supply of French.

_ Je rêve de tout ce qui était et ce qui aurait pu._

_ Je rêve de mon autre vie, la vie que je pouvais avoir._

_ Je rêve de toi._

_ Votre sœur aimante,_

_ Ginny_

"Damn it," she muttered softly to herself as she quickly went through the rest of the papers. There were letters in several languages; she thought she recognized some more French, some Latin, something that could possibly be German although she wasn't sure she'd know German from Italian.

"He must write to half the world," she grumbled softly.

"Only the literate half," replied a voice from the door.


	165. The Luck of the Irish

**There are some people that I really need to thank. The people reading my story have always been very kind in their reviews but this past week, I received several reviews that made me laugh, or smile, or think about what it is I have been writing.**

I have always said that I don't write for reviews, that even if no one were reading I would still be posting FTE. I like to think that might be true, but I am not so blind as to close my eyes to the fact that when I receive reviews that are loving, supportive, and appreciative for what I have written; I am inspired to post quickly.

Thank you everyone for your continued patience, interest, and support.

Oh, and to faithful reader, I don't think you are the only one who wonders what Jason Cross is up to or enjoys him as a character, or at least enjoys mistrusting him.

To answer Faithful Reader's question, what are everyone's thoughts on the good Doctor?

* * *

Jason Cross closed the door behind him. "I was about to apologize for leaving you here for so long but, I see you found something to keep you entertained." He came to her side and took the papers from her hand. "And here I thought when we first met you told me that you weren't much for reading."

Lifting her shoulders slightly, Scarlett shrugged, conveying a degree of boredom with the topic. "I read on occasion, especially when the material in question is so enlightening."

He smiled slightly. "Do you read French?"

"What do you think," she replied, her eyes burning brightly.

He laughed at her show of bravado. "You are an excellent bluffer Scarlett but I think that you read just enough schoolgirl French to muddle through romance novels when the occasion warrants it."

"I don't read romantic novels," she retorted defensively.

"Shocking," he remarked, his attention on reorganizing his disturbed pile of letters.

"What did Rhett want," she asked softly.

Looking up, his hands were still. "He wasn't actually looking to see me. He stopped to settle your accounts and when he found I was home, he did offer me a less than convincing thank you for services rendered. He also informed me that in future you shall be seeking out a new personal physician. A new doctor, is that so Scarlett? It's just as they say, the doctor is always the last to know. I'm hurt."

"Do you know whether he was planning on going home?"

One brow rose slightly. "Of course, as a matter of fact, he disclosed to me his itinerary for the rest of the week. There were no other impromptu visits to me scheduled."

"You are an ass," she replied sourly.

"He mentioned that your son stopped to talk to an acquaintance and her aunt. He was going back to get him. I suspect you will have just enough time to slip home undetected. You have the luck of the Irish Scarlett, I never believed in it until I met you."

"So I've been told. I'll go now but I don't want you to have any doubts, stay the hell away from Rosemary, do you understand me?"

"I don't take orders Scarlett, not even from you, charming as though you may be. I've never taken orders from anyone. I don't intend to start now."

The pain she carried at being caught in the middle showed on her beautiful but now drawn face. The trip to Atlanta and the subsequent journey back, the hurried excursion to Dr. Cross's home, and the fear at discovery by Rhett had worn her down. She blurted out, "Why can't you just leave her alone."

"Simply because I don't want to Scarlett, and I won't."

"You can't possibly love her," she lifted her face, her dark hair framing a face as perfect as a carved cameo. In her anguish and fatigue she possessed a new frailty he had never seen her wear. "I could almost believe that you are fond of her, but love? It's not possible to just fall in love in such a short period of time."

"Am I not capable of love, Scarlett," he asked her softly, his feelings for Rosemary present in his earnest gaze.

She rubbed her temple. "I don't know what you're capable of, that's what worries me most."

He caught her hand, holding it fast when she tried to pull away. Forcing her to look at him, to really consider him as more than a nuisance or a threat to her happiness but as an honest suitor for Rosemary. "I would never hurt you. You need to know that I am not capable of that. The trust between us; between doctor and patient, to me it's sacrosanct. I will keep your secrets, I will heal you, I swear to you, hate me if you must, but know that you can keep faith with me."

She shook her head, her expression somber. "If you hurt Rhett, you'll hurt me."

He dropped her hand and moving away, he regarded her with great interest. "You love him so much? You care so deeply that his pain is yours?" He smiled slightly. "Have you always been so loyal?"

Squaring her small frame, she met his insolent gaze without hesitation. "I haven't always been the wife I should have been, but I've been trying to change. Part of changing is putting other people before myself. I swear, if you continue to pursue Rosemary, I will not give you a moment's peace."

"Don't threaten me,"

"It's not a threat, it's a promise. If I have to come here every day, I'll…"

"Don't you dare," he cautioned harshly.

She rose to the challenge in his tone, answering swiftly, "I'll do what I like." Her voice was tight and flat leaving him without a doubt that she meant what she said. "If I have to, I'll be on your doorstep every morning…"

"Never again, do you hear me, you can never do this again," he exploded. "To come here again, without a chaperone, of all the things you could do? You will destroy yourself and take me with you in the bargain."

"That's a risk you want to run, test me. You may not like the results." She made to brush past him, an insolent smirk on her full lips. "I'll see you in the morning Doctor."

He caught her by the upper arms, jerking her back. "Stop it. I like you Scarlett Butler. In fact, I like you a great deal but not enough to be vilified and crucified for the sake of you."

He startled her. Even when he had handled her earlier it still wasn't with such complete disregard. She brought her hands up, trying desperately to strike him. "Get your hands off me you cad."

"No." She continued to struggle and he held her fast. "Stop fighting me and listen." She continued her unrelenting onslaught and he shook her, hard. A small desperate cry escaped her lips but knowing he was stronger than her, she stilled, waiting. "Now, will you just listen to me?"

"No! I don't give a damn what you have to say; now you turn me loose."

"God damn it Scarlett, not until I've said what I mean to say. Not a minute before and the sooner you stop and listen, the sooner that will be."

She looked up at him, her gaze mutinous but she remained still. "Fine, say what you need to say."

"Though you seem to be bound and determined to, I won't let you destroy your reputation a second time."

She pulled back, her head rebounding as if he'd dealt her a stinging blow, "What did you just say?"

"There's no use pretending, I know."

Her eyes narrowed, "What is it that you think you know?"

"I know what Atlanta was for you, how you were treated."

His words shook her to her core, halting any thoughts of fighting him. She sagged slightly, suddenly drained and weak. Her life in Atlanta, it had followed her to Charleston courtesy of a completely unexpected messenger. Still, she tried to bluff. "You don't know what you're talking about. I know people talk about me but—"

No smile, no trace of pleasure or satisfaction appeared on Jason Cross face. "I don't know what I'm talking about? For the love of God, you weren't received by anyone decent in the whole damn town."

"Her face clouded with embarrassment, but she diligently met his interested gaze. "You're misinformed."

"Like hell I am." He frowned, but there was also grudging respect in his expression at the way she refused to lower her eyes. She could look at him, it seemed, even when ashamed and vulnerable. "How did that feel," he questioned softly, "you were raised as a princess by a wealthy father but more importantly, you had veritable southern royalty for a mother. You weren't received for all that you possessed a Robillard for a mother, that must have been heartbreaking."

"Don't talk about me like you really know anything about me except whatever dirty gossip someone was willing to share with you," The words were uttered with emphasis, there was no room for discussion of her dead parents and she wanted that to be crystal clear.

Still, he could not help but continue. "Alright then, let's talk then about your husband. The present one I mean because there were others, weren't there? Weren't there two others if we were to be exact? Your husband left you—"

"Shut up." She wanted to punish him, put him to shame, avenge on him some small piece of the anguish his words caused her. "Who are you to judge me, as if you weren't raised in disgrace—"

"We aren't talking about me, he destroyed your reputation and then, when it was all said and done, he left you. This is the sort of father you want to give a child."

"Stop it," she shrieked, not looking at him, as though her cries were caused by physical pain. "Just stop." Her voice was hoarse with tears and shame at having her life dragged into the light of day by a veritable stranger.

"I know it and you know it so let's call things as they were, you were nothing more than Rhett Butler's disgraced and discarded wife."

"How dare you," she cried out. "How dare you? How dare you speak as though you know anything about my life, you pompous ass."

"How dare I? I dare because I, better than anyone, knows what it's like to grow to manhood in a family touched by feminine disgrace. Would you wish that on Wade? To have a mother who went astray? Would you have Ella be the daughter of a suspected adulteress? You managed to shed your former tattered reputation like a snake sheds its skin, but if you malign it once again? No one decent would have the children of such a mother for their sons and daughters."

Her face burned with shame and rage. "You shut your filthy mouth," she whispered brokenly, "I've never cheated on Rhett, ever."

"And who would believe you if you were caught here alone with me and no one knowing that you'd come? Julia Ashley? Sally Brewton? Your beloved Rhett?"

Her mouth opened and then closed slowly. He was right. Damn him to hell, he was right. He was handsome, rich, and close to her own age. There would be people who might believe that, after the rumors about Milton Courtney, she had sought out and found a new lover.


	166. Breaking beauty

**I have been so lucky, the last few months I received so much encouragement to continue posting on a more regular basis. My internship is over, I have time. This is the most consistent I have been with posting in years. I promise, keep following the story for chapter updates, there are more chapters coming through the rest of the summer.**

* * *

He took her silence as permission to continue. "I'll tell you, not one of the esteemed ladies of Charleston's fine society would believe you. Do you think your Robillard blood would save you? It would not. They cut Ginny dead, as if she were trash, as if she were a whore. She was blameless and still, she had to retreat into Rosevale as though she were a criminal, a leaper. You will damn yourself in Charleston society if you don't use that pretty head of your's for more than displaying hats."

She trembled slightly, her had her undivided attention. Fighting was no good. She could not free herself from his hands which were cutting into the soft flesh of her forearms. "You have no right to speak to me this way," she refuted indignantly.

"I don't," he challenged bluntly.

"No, you don't," she said softly, "no matter what happened to your sister, I'm not her and the circumstances are very different."

He thought for a minute before responding to her. When he spoke, his voice was gentle now. "Scarlett, this is Charleston. In some way, when I consider where you come from, that's like saying to you this is the moon."

"The moon?"

"Yes, the moon because Charleston is a distant, alien world to most people not born and bred here. Charleston is not Atlanta. Even when Charleston was as young as Atlanta, it still wasn't Atlanta. Charleston is arrogance, its elitism, it's clannish to an extreme I have only seen present in what's left of France's aristocracy."

Her lips drew into a thin line. "People have been kind to me here, I'm making friends. Thank you for your advice but—"

"People are accepting you because it suits them but, if you flaunt the rules of propriety, you will be punished. The rules exist in Charleston for precisely that reason. These people love doling out punishments for infractions of the rules; both real and imagined. If you break the rules, they will break you. Not because you truly deserve your punishment, but for the pleasure of it." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "They would do it because you are an outsider but also because you are a very beautiful woman. There are many women," he paused, considering his next words before continuing, "and men who enjoy the distress of a beautiful woman. They like to tear down something beautiful because they themselves are not."

She considered his words, turning them over carefully in her mind. Finding validity in them, she nodded, acknowledging her find. "I'm careful. More careful than I have ever been before."

"You are beautiful. I know that you know you are. You are beautiful, you are mysterious because you are an outsider, and you are rich. Any of those alone would be reason enough for people to try and pull you into the mud. All three combined, you must be careful. You can never come to this house alone again. If you must come to see me here, you come with a chaperone of irreproachable reputation. Never Rosemary, do you understand me? If you come with her in tow, I will not allow you past my front door. Sally Brewton would be suitable if all else fails but honestly, seek out Emily Butler. Charleston has always held her mother and the rest of her family in the highest regard. No one would think her capable of fault or a party to the potential disgrace or dishonor of her sister in law."

"How do you know about my reputation in Atlanta?" She lifted her chin, her green eyes daring him to lie to her. "I'd like to know."

He nodded slightly, "You have a right to know. When you first came to Charleston, I noticed you with Rosemary. I confess, while I was taken with her, you also caught my attention. I could see that you were suffering but yet, you tried your best not to let it show. I admire that, I found such fortitude and stoicism admirable, especially in a woman. It must be difficult for your husband, I don't like him as you well know, but I pity him. You stand out, wherever you go. That must be frustrating, to be married to a woman who always catches the attention of others wherever she goes."

"He's learned to cope with it and none of that answers my question."

"I wandered, my apologies. Finding that you came from Atlanta, I mentioned you in a letter to a friend who practices there. Maybe you know him, Dr. John Beckett."

Thinking briefly, she recalled no doctor by that name. She shook her head "I don't know him."

"He came from New York just after the war. We went to school together up north."

"Your friend is a Yankee," she said disparagingly.

"He's also a very bright man and a highly capable physician. I'd advise you Scarlett to remember that the war is over."

"It's never going to be over. You said so yourself, you were in France the whole time. You don't know what we all went through. Why we will always remember what they did. I could live to be 100 and I won't ever forget them burning all the cotton we picked or taking everything we had, leaving my son to starve."

"The north is the future Scarlett. The sooner you see that, the sooner you will be able to build your empire anew."

"I'm not interested in building empires anymore."

He laughed as if she'd just shared a particularly funny anecdote. "I don't believe that for a minute. You had lumber mills, a store, and business interests. You were born to be the lady of the manor but instead, you've taken on challenges that most men could not have met. Another woman would have sold herself in marriage but you…"

"Stop it," she cried, startled at the passion in her voice.

"Scarlett," he began, but she cut him off.

"You don't know anything about me," she cried fervently, "you know gossip and lies. That isn't the whole of me, what people say. I am not what they all say, I'm not," she added in a whisper.

A lock of hair had escaped her carefully styled chignon. Releasing one of her forearm, he reached out and brushed it back gently from her brow. His touch was light, but it sent her heart racing violently in her breast. "This is what I know. I know that I've never known a woman like you. I've known princesses and empresses, but never another like you." He looked into her face, his eyes questioning. When he spoke again, it was almost to himself. "Why are you so different?"

The way he was looking at her, naked admiration written clearly on his face. The way his hand felt, resting on her face, molded to her cheek. For a second, she responded to his veneration.

The tension left her body and she could feel something almost physical pass between them. It disconcerted her greatly. What was she doing, allowing this? This was insane and she had to stop it, now. "I think you should take your hands off of me," she asked quietly, "please."

He did so immediately. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I've upset you which was never my intention." He stepped back from her, looking as if her were afraid of her. "I apologize. That sounds weak and useless but I hope you will accept my apology."

She nodded. "Yes," she said softly, the word tasting like ashes on her tongue.

"You shouldn't have come today but I understand why you did. You felt you had to. I am sorry that it came to this. I will speak with Rosemary. Whatever she and I decide, I don't want you involved. You may think that I don't care for your health or well-being but I don't want to see you hurt by us, by our actions."

"Leave her alone," she pleaded softly.

"No."

Desperate, she aimed low. "What does your sister think of this?"

His face contorted, his handsome face became momentarily grotesque. "Virginia understands that I am a grown man and I will do as I will."

"What did she say in her letter?"

"That's none of your business Scarlett."

"If it concerns my family," she countered, "it's my business."

"What makes you so sure my letter concerns your family? The contents of that letter are between my sister and me." He smiled. "You have sisters; didn't you tell me that one of them is one of the esteemed sisters here in Charleston?"

"What does your sister have to do with mine?"

"Surely you must write one another?"

"Careen and I do. Sue and I have only ever exchanged letters concerning the children. Now that they are with me, I don't expect to ever hear from her again unless of course, she needs money." The letter that Sue had written her concerning stealing Frank came to mind, bring a guilty flush to her pale cheeks.

"She raised me. She is mother and sister and confidant all rolled into one. I write her to unburden myself. I write her when I face a patient I cannot help, one I-" He paused, clearing his throat. "I am a very good doctor Scarlett. Whatever else you think of me, I believe you know that."

She nodded, not able to deny the legitimacy of his words.

"But, many people come to me and I can do nothing. I can sometimes prolong a life but I cannot always save them all, all of those desperate souls that come to me. I always write to her for comfort when I lose a patient. This week, I lost a patient I had cared for. When you arrived, I was writing a letter to my sister. I have things that I need to say. She will understand and she won't judge me."

Sudden understanding dawned. What he was saying made some sense when compared to what she could translate in his letter. "You must be very fond of her."

"Very fond doesn't begin to describe how I feel about my sister."

"You'd do anything for her?"

"Before you attempt what you think is some clever way to get to me to confess to all the evil I have been plotting and planning, please just stop. I would do anything for my sister but I would not do anything to Rosemary. There isn't a damn thing I can say to you to convince you to think differently so I am not even going to try."

"Swear to me."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Swear to me. Look me in the eye and swear to me, on your sister's life, swear that you aren't chasing after Rosemary to hurt my family. You do love her, your sister I mean. I don't doubt that. If you want me to believe you, swear to me."

"You think that I am not capable of lying to you, of crossing my fingers behind my back to negate my oath to you? How naïve you can sometimes be Scarlett."

"Swear on her life and lie to me? I can't see you being capable."

He nodded. "I swear on Virginia's life, I mean your family no harm. I love Rosemary, that is the only reason I am pursuing her. On my sister's life."

"You and Rosemary may have the best of intentions but in the end, I know in my heart, I am going to end up in the middle of all of this."

"Go home Scarlett. Please don't worry. I won't lie and pretend that I am not going to try and win Rosemary's hand but I will not allow you to become involved. Rhett will never learn from me that you knew of my intentions."

Grabbing her hat and fixing it on her head by touch, Scarlett looked at him for a long moment. No words were said until finally, she spoke. "You can't promise me that, I know if you ever feel a real need to strike out at him, I will be nothing more than a convenient weapon."

She left before her could confirm or deny her fears.


End file.
